


Can't Fight This

by FeelsForBreakfast



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, covering all my platforms like a boss, reposting from ff.net + tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelsForBreakfast/pseuds/FeelsForBreakfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I never meant to fall in love with Harry Styles, but I guess in the end it was never up to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Fight This

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from ff.net and tumblr, because it was annoying me to not have it on here. Hope you like it, and if this your second time seeing it, that I haven't annoyed you yet. (:

Chapter 1

When I met him, I had no idea how big of a problem he was going to become. The kind of problem that keeps you up at night, that twists your stomach into knots and makes it impossible to think about anything else. Though I didn’t know it at the time, Harry Styles had hit me like a sarcastic, adorable, cuddly freight train, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.  
It had been those curls. Those goddamn curls and his stupid smiles, the ones that lit up his entire face and made it so awful to see him frown. Harry was infectious, his enthusiasm an almost tangible thing that made you want him to like you, to be the reason for his laughter. I didn’t ask to fall for him, never once even considered it, it just happened, and now I was trapped. Not that I really minded.  
xx

We were all sitting in the back of the limo, the cool leather smooth against my back. I surveyed the faces of my new band mates, their friendly small talk filling the car. Though I’d initially been disappointed that I wasn’t good enough to make it by myself, I was excited to be part of this new group. They all seemed like really nice guys and at least we weren’t going home. The curly haired boy stuck out an enthusiastic hand, interrupting my introspection. “You’re Louis, right?”  
I nodded, reaching to shake it. “Yep.” He had lovely curls, dark brown and shiny, coiling down to frame his face. I was straight, I mean, I had a girlfriend, but it was impossible to deny how attractive he was. He hadn’t looked like this when we’d first been told we were going to be in groups. There was no way. I would have noticed.  
“It’s nice to meet you.” You know when you meet someone really interesting and cool and you want to be witty and funny and charming and your brain sort of short circuits? Well it was happening to me. Bad. “I’m Louis.” ...and he already knew that. Now you sound like an idiot. A+ game there Tomlinson.  
He just smiled, a sort of cheeky half grin that somehow made me feel at ease as well as ten times more nervous. “I’m Harry.”  
I returned his smile. “I remember.” Was that weird to say? No. Maybe. Who knows.  
He seemed to size me up for a moment, his green eyes scanning my face as if he was trying to piece together something that just eluded his grasp. He eyes lit up suddenly. “I remember you! We met in the bathroom.”  
I gave him a quizzical look. “Really?”  
“About two weeks ago I think.” He confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, there were no paper towels, so then we were trying to find a hand dryer, and then I let you use my shirt!”  
I felt laughter bubble up inside my chest, the incident all coming back to me. “I remember that.”  
“I am a rather memorable person.” He said, leaning back in the seat to put his arm around the irish boy, Niall I think. “Must be my dazzling good looks.”  
“Either that or the curls.” I said, unable to keep myself from smiling.  
He nodded in agreement. “Probably the curls.”

The light from the campfire danced across the faces of my new bandmates. Spending the last few days in Harry’s step-dad’s bungalow had brought us closer than I could have imagined. We’d all met each other in passing during the first few weeks of X-factor and everyone had seemed nice enough, but this was almost too good to be true. I didn’t want to use the term ‘best friends’ but it seemed like that’s what we were becoming.  
I felt fingers at my torso, brushing my skin from where I sat in front of the fire, the heat blooming across my face. It had been pretty hot all day but as lavender evening turned to night the temperature had dropped quite a bit. We’d all dragged blankets and pillows outside to combat the chill, one of which I currently had wrapped around my shoulders.  
Niall strummed out a few quick chords on his guitar, the notes blending with the soft buzz of crickets. After a rather rambunctious night of eating marshmallows, nearly pushing each other into the fire, and rowdy singing, things finally seemed to have quieted down. I was glad, it had been a fun night, but I could feel my eyelids growing a bit heavy. Still, I didn’t want to go inside just yet. It was a lovely night despite the chill, the moon little more than a crescent, but the stars poking hopeful pinpricks of light through the navy darkness.  
“You know you love me, you know you-” Came Niall’s voice from across the fire, his accent evident even when he sang. Zayn let out an exaggerated moan, cutting him off.  
“No more Bieber.” He groaned, throwing one of the pillows in Niall’s general direction, managing to clip him on his arm.  
Niall responded by launching into the end of the verse sans guitar, before breaking into a fit of giggles and rolling back into Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn responded with a furious pillow barrage, and I found I couldn’t suppress the grin that had suddenly appeared on my face.  
I felt fingers on my hip again, this time slightly more persistent in their tugging on the thin cotton of my shirt. I turned, finding Harry reaching for me from his place on the grass. He was lying with his feet closest to where I sat, with his head by Liam, propped up on a pillow and cocooned in a fleecy blanket.  
“Hey.” I said, smiling down at him. Though I’d initially been a little intimidated by him, I’d hit it off with Harry almost immediately. Out of all the members of the band, he was probably my favorite.  
He held out both of his arms to me, his face drawn in a tired half-smile. “Cuddle me.”  
I scooted backward, laying down next to him on the grass. It was a little cooler over here just away from the fire, but not uncomfortably so. I looked up at the sky, searching for the constellations among the stars. Harry’s arms curled around me, tugging me closer so our bodies were flush against each other.  
“You’re really warm, Lou.” He said sleepily, snuggling up in the crook of my arm. I didn’t bother questioning the nick name. It was sweet and, coming out of his mouth, I liked it. “And you smell like campfire.”  
“So do you, Styles.” I replied, his curls laced with the familiar smokey smell and the slight tang of bugspray.  
Across the circle, Niall had abandoned teen-pop for a softer rendition of Fix You, taken slowly in the hush that had begun to fall over the fire. I felt my eyes drift shut, the long day finally catching up to me. Harry was so warm against me, his knees resting against my calves, head tucked on my chest. He shifted against me, his arm sliding across my torso to rest at my shoulder.  
“Comfortable?” I murmured, sleep making my words soft and almost slurred.  
“Mhmm.” He nodded against me, snuggling up closer to my side. “Night, Lou.”  
“Night, Harry.” The last thing I registered before I feel asleep was his breath, warm against my collarbone.  
xx  
“Louis. Lou. Louis.” I slowly brought myself awake, my brain still too foggy to really comprehend what was happening. “Louis wake up.”  
I opened my eyes, finding a pair of green ones staring right back at me. “Wha-?” I mumbled half coherently, more than a little confused to find Harry no more than two inches from my face. He opened his mouth as if to say something but seemed to lose his train of thought, hovering over me as if he wasn’t quite sure why he was there in the first place.  
There was a long moment where we just lay there, him sitting on my torso, me flat on my back, where nothing seemed to move, our faces just inches apart. His eyes seemed to flick downward for a moment and I felt oddly self conscious and more than a little confused.  
“Harry?”  
He seemed to jolt out of whatever trance he’d fallen into, a bright smile breaking onto his face. “Wake up, we’re all headed inside.”  
“I can’t really get up when you’re sitting on me.” I said dryly, referring to the fact that I currently had a good 150 pounds of Harry Styles currently planted on my person.  
He rolled off into the grass. “Sorry. You’re a heavy sleeper. I had to resort to ulterior methods.”  
“So that’s what you were doing.” I said, gathering the blankets I’d brought down. The fire had burned down to no more than a few glowing embers, the warm yellow light of the bungalow now trickling toward us across the grass. The rest of the boys were just a little ahead of us, each loaded down with the stuff they’d brought out.  
“Of course.” He grabbed his pillows, launching them towards the house. “What did you think I was doing?”  
I shrugged, not entirely sure what I’d been thinking. “I don’t know. Just for a second there...” I trailed off, unsure what I was even trying to say.  
“No, really, what did you think?”  
I forced a smile, allowing the earlier fireside calm to descend over me and dispel any other thoughts. “It’s nothing, really.”  
He nodded and let a smile settle onto his face, evidently satisfied with my answer. “Alright. Well hurry up, it’s first come first serve for beds and I’m not sleeping with Liam this time. He talks. A lot.”  
I tried to throw a blanket at him, the thing not going more than about three feet before billowing onto the grass. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”  
But as I followed Harry back to the house I couldn’t get that moment out of my head. As strange as it sounded, for a moment there, I thought he was going to kiss me.

Chapter 2  
I let an exhilarated laugh rip from my throat as we cavorted off the stage, the last few chords still ringing in my ears. I never got tired of performing, the rush of nerves and the blinding glow of the spotlights. Listening to the cheers and screams of the crowd as we entered and took our final bows. It was something you never really got over.  
Being up there with the band was so wonderful, a feeling I could barely even put into words. There was something about the way the harmonies tangled together so perfectly, and the knowledge that they were all behind you as you soloed, silently encouraging you.  
I felt hands on my shoulders and an abrupt pressure as someone jumped onto my back. I was able to guess, even before I heard his giggling in my ear that it was Harry.  
“Nice job, Lou!”  
I sagged under his weight. “Noo! Too heavy!”  
He buried his head in my neck, refusing to be put down. “I can’t make it! You’re going to have to carry me!”  
I sank to my knees, bringing Harry down with me. “Liam! Help!” I felt his mouth on my neck, biting the soft skin there between his teeth. My breath caught in my throat, my whole body freezing at the contact. Harry gave me love bites enough that I should have been used to it, but I managed to be caught off guard each time.  
I tried to wrestle him off, unsuccessful in the face of his slightly larger body and momentum, not to mention his tenuous hold on my neck. “Liam he’s biting me!”  
Liam turned, a grin breaking across his face at the carnage commencing on the floor of the hallway. “I am not getting involved in this.” He said, forced to duck as an enthusiastic Zayn moved to ruffle his hair.  
I managed to shake him off, laughter making my stomach hurt as he rolled away from me. He started to get up, but I reached for one of his hands, pulling him back down onto the ground with me. “You aren’t getting away that easily.”  
“Oh yeah?” He asked, his famous cheeky smile falling onto his face, daring me to do something. I felt a familiar pang in my stomach, a sort of happy jolt that always seemed to happen when he was around. There was something about Harry that made him just a little different from the rest of the boys, a spark he had that they didn’t, or some way of smiling that made it impossible not to smile back. “Who’s going to stop me?”  
I grabbed onto his lapels, dragging him downward with a impish grin. “Me.”  
“You?” He laughed, rolling and pulling me with him so I was straddling his torso, a position I seemed to find myself in surprisingly often.  
“Yep. Me.” I perched happily on his stomach, my fingers threaded between his. “You sounded really great tonight.”  
He made a face. “I did alright. Fucked up a little on my solo in-”  
I pulled one of my hands from his grasp, covering his mouth before he could finish the sentence. “You sounded great.”  
He stuck his tongue out, licking my palm. “You taste all sweaty. And like microphones.”  
“No but really.” I insisted, wanting to make sure he knew. For anyone who wasn’t close with him, it would be easy to thing that Harry was just as debonair as his manner suggested, but I’d be friends with him long enough to know that he had a tendency to let little things get to him sometimes. “You have a great voice.”  
He gave a small nod, seeming to understand the underlying comfort in my words. _You’re great, and don’t ever for a moment think you’re not._ “Thanks, Lou. You’re sounding great too, nearly brought down the house with your solo.”  
My whole body seemed to warm from the compliment. I wasn’t the strongest singer in the band, that was for sure, but I was getting better. It was nice to hear that my efforts seemed to be paying off.  
I was about to respond when an authoritative voice interrupted me, one of the security guards calling from the doorway. “Boys, you’ve got to clear the hall!”  
I used the wall next to me to push myself into a standing position, the fatigue of the concert beginning to catch up with me as I stood. I looked back down at Harry, who hadn’t moved an inch. Seeing my gaze, he held him hands up to me, wiggling his fingers for me to take.  
I grabbed them, hauling him up. He refused to stand, instead falling into my arms. “Harry, you’re all sweaty.” I complained, trying half heartedly to push him upright.  
“Yum.” He replied, wiping his damp forehead on mine before taking my hand and pulling me down the hallway to join the rest of the boys.  
I rolled my eyes, following him down the hallway with a grin I was trying very hard to make disapproving. I gave up before I’d even taken a few steps. It was impossible to get mad at Harry, much less stay mad at him.  
As I was tugged down the hall, I felt another peal of laughter burst from my throat. There was just something about that boy, the way he talked, the way he smiled, even the sound of his laughter, that made me special in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to understand.  
I guess in the end there was only one thing I knew for certain. Harry Styles was magic.  
.  
Chapter 3  
I could not, for the life of me, get to sleep. I loved being on tour and living with the band, but it was so hard not seeing everyone from home, especially my parents. I had never been the homesick type, I wasn’t one of those kids who had to go home from sleepovers in the middle of the night, but I recognized the empty sad feeling in my stomach for what it was. Terrible, awful, stupid homesickness.  
It was a soft of aching tiredness but also a piercing pain that curled deep in my stomach, one that I wasn’t quite sure how to fix. I could feel the weariness deep inside my bones, my body begging my unresponsive brain to let me get some rest. I sat up in bed, giving up on sleep for the time being. I snuck a look at the clock, unsure whether or not I wanted to know just how tired I’d be the next morning. It was 3:30, leaving me a maximum of four hours before I had to be up and about again, and that was only if I could get to sleep this very minute, which was definitely not happening.  
I picked up my phone, weighing it in my hands. I knew if I called my mum would answer, but I didn’t want to wake her or my sisters. I thought about texting Hannah, just for someone to talk to, but if I was being honest with myself I didn’t really want to talk her at all.  
I couldn’t just sit here all night. It was stupid. This whole homesick thing was so stupid. I dropped my phone onto the mattress, letting my head fall into my hands and swearing softly under my breath. It was too hot in this hotel room, too hot, too quiet, and too uncomfortable. I slid off the bed, trying not to make any noise as I headed for the mini-kitchen, hoping to pour myself a glass of water.  
I fished through the cupboards, finding a cup and filling it with lukewarm sink water. I leaned up against the counter, the granite cool against my lower back as I took a small sip. From my spot in the kitchen I could see Harry’s bedroom, the door open just a crack. I could sneak in and sleep with him. He probably wouldn’t wake up, and maybe I’d actually be able to get some rest.  
I set my drink on the counter, creeping towards his doorway and slinking through. I paused before his bed, watching him in the soft blue light of his alarm clock. He was beautiful, in the way people can only be once you know them almost as well as you know yourself. In sleep he lost all of his cheeky sarcasm, simply reduced to the soft curve of his shoulders, curls in the half-light, and the shadow of eyelashes in the hollows of his eyes.  
My feet made barely more than a whisper on the carpet as I climbed into his bed, sliding underneath the covers. I’d told myself I was just going to lay next to him, but somehow in the darkness I couldn’t resist curling up against his warm body.  
He stirred beside me, turning to look at me with sleepy eyes. “Lou...?” His voice was hushed and rough with sleep.  
I nuzzled into his neck, trying to lose myself in the smell of him. “I couldn’t sleep.”  
“I see.” He adjusted his body, moving so he faced the ceiling and my head rested on his bare chest. He wrapped his arm around my waist, his fingers worrying the skin there.  
I slid my arm across his chest, letting it rest at his shoulder, hugging his body to mine. I could practically feel myself calming, feel the empty, painful knots in my chest loosen as I felt his slow inhales and exhales. His heartbeat echoed against my cheek, a steady thump that told me with each beat that I wasn’t alone, because I had him next to me. Laying here against him, each curve and hollow of his body completely familiar to me, this was home.  
“Harry?” I murmured, tilting my head up to look at him.  
“Yeah?” He answered, our faces brushing against each other as he spoke, his breath warm on my lips.  
“Tell me a story.”  
He smiled down at me. “What kind of story?”  
“The good kind.” I replied, my voice muffled against his skin.  
He let out a soft breath of laughter. “If you insist.”  
He tapped his fingers against my hipbone, starting his tale in a hushed whisper. “Once upon a time, there were two knights. The dashing and clever Harry, and his best friend, the roguish and witty Louis. One day the two knights were riding through the woods together-”  
“Harry?”  
“Yes?”  
I paused, the words hanging on my lips. “I love you.”  
He brushed his lips against my hairline, murmuring his reply against my forehead. “I love you too, Tommo.”  
“Good.” I replied, letting my eyes fall closed once again.  
I felt his ribcage contract beneath me as he let out a long sigh, then the soft rumble of his voice as he started his story again. “They were riding in the woods when they came upon three princesses, each very much in distress. It was Nialla, Leia, and Zaida, each taken hostage by Simon, the evil dragon. Louis and Harry each-”  
But his words were quickly losing their meaning, sentences melting together into nothing more than the steady comforting rhythm of his voice. I felt his fingers as they intertwined themselves with mine and his lips as he pressed them to my temple, and then I was lost to the world.  
.  
Chapter 4  
I sat perched on a stool in the cozy yellow light of the kitchen, a cup of tea warming my palms. Though I’d been out drinking with the boys earlier, I hadn’t really been in the mood to get smashed and so I’d headed home early. I’d been intending to wait up for Harry, but after two episodes of Cheaters and a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, I was just about ready to finish my drink and head for bed.  
I took a sip, the tea warming me all the way down to my toes. The doorknob jiggled, and I caught a faint bit of cursing from a voice that was unmistakably Harry’s before he finally managed to get the door open.  
“You’re home early.” I observed, gesturing at the large clock above the counter. It was quarter till two, and I hadn’t expected him until much closer to three.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, meeting my eyes from the doorway, his filled with hurt and something that almost bordered on betrayal.  
I blinked at him, completely blindsided by his accusation. I cocked my head, racking my brain for something that I could’ve done that would have hurt him like this but coming up with nothing. “What are you talking about?”  
“Hannah!” He replied, as if it that should have automatically explained everything. At the expression of vague confusion on my face, he elaborated. “Hannah, Louis! You broke up with her and you didn’t even tell me!”  
I shrunk under his glare, not entirely sure why he was so angry about me breaking it off. It had been a long time coming, I’d barely seen Hannah these last few weeks and had found that I couldn’t seem to miss her the way I should. But why should that have made him so angry? He hadn’t even liked her that much. “I just didn’t think it was that important.”  
He didn’t seem to find much comfort in my answer. “Well how did you think I was going to find out then, Lou? Was I just supposed to know? Liam had to tell me. _Liam_.” He whipped off his jacket, throwing it violently at the floor. “Jesus christ I’m your fucking best friend and you didn’t even tell me!”  
I stood, wanting somehow to fix this, to wipe that awful look off his face. I didn’t think I could remember him ever really getting mad at me, certainly nothing like this. It was terrible, awful, and painful in a way I couldn’t even put into words. “Harry I didn’t think it was important! It’s over! She’s gone!”  
“Well it is important!” He yelled, yanking a hand through his curls in agitation.  
“No it’s not!” I protested, hurt welling up inside me. He had no reason to be yelling at me. I hadn’t even done anything. “Why is this such a big deal to you!”  
“Am I not allowed to have feelings now?” He asked indignantly, his voice breaking on the last two words. I’d never seen him like this before, so angry and almost fragile, like something inside him was breaking.  
“Of course you’re aloud to have feelings!” I exclaimed, horrified that he’d even say something like that. Harry didn’t even have to tell me what he feeling, it was just something I knew with a glance, like the weather. “I just don’t see why this is such a big deal!”  
“Because I’m in love with you!” He seemed to freeze for a moment, as if somehow his mouth had moved faster than his brain and the words had burst out before he could stop them.  
A heavy silence seemed to fall over us, leaving me unable to do anything but stare at him, his words refusing to process.  
“What?” I finally managed to choke out. I mean, Harry and I loved each other, but I wasn’t _in love_ with him. I didn’t know how to deal with this, how I could take this conversation back into safe territory. Somehow between him coming home and now we’d moved into a more dangerous place, one that made my heart leap into my throat and my breathing shallow.  
“I’m in love with you.” He repeated in a resigned tone, this time more softly, as if he was admitting it more to himself that to me.  
I took a tentative step towards him, unsure of what exactly I was doing. “Harry you’re drunk.”  
He shook his head fervently. “No, no I’m not.”  
“Yes you are.” I stepped forward again, slowly. He’d stopped yelling, but I knew him well enough to sense that he wasn’t calm, that something volatile was simmering just underneath the surface.  
“It wouldn’t change anything.”  
I reached out to touch him, my hands resting on your shoulders. “Just, just get some sleep. In the morning, you’ll- It’ll- You aren’t thinking straight.”  
“I’m thinking perfectly fine.” He shrugged out of my grasp, standing in the kitchen with an air of quiet torment, like something was eating him from the inside. “Why can’t you just listen to me? I am. In love. With you.”  
I stumbled backward, confusion and helplessness overloading my brain. “God would you just stop saying that!” I hissed, wishing I could just make him drop the subject. He wasn’t in love me. He couldn’t be. Somehow I had to make him understand that. He was _Harry_ for God’s sake.  
“Don’t you understand? I can’t. I can’t stop, because you know now and I’m done- I’m fucking done pretending I don’t because looking at you, its like the best kind of hurt. Looking at you is like, its like every part of me is alive, and I don’t want to stop feeling that. I just want you.” He closed the gap between us, his face determined. I took another clumsy step back, unsure as to what was happening and completely clueless as to how to fix it.  
“Harry I’m not- I don’t-”  
“Jesus Christ, would you stop lying to yourself!” He exploded. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, you just- Why can’t you admit that you’re in love with me too!”  
I shook my head, trying to string arguments into sentences, but you coming out with nothing more than stuttering fragments. “No I- I don’t- I don’t- Harry you’re-”  
He cut me off, his voice angry now. “No. Stop it. Fucking stop it. You love me too, Louis. You fucking love me back!”  
I stood frozen, my limbs unable to move, my lips slightly parted but incapable of making a sound. I wasn’t gay, and neither was Harry. We were friends. He was drunk or drugged or something. It couldn’t be true. None of it could be. Right?  
I didn’t even know anymore. It was like someone had taken my world and flipped into some strange place where even Harry was something I couldn’t even count on.  
“Jesus christ, Louis, say something.” He pleaded, his voice laced with desperation.  
“Harry I don’t- I don’t feel that way.” I said softly, the words sounding bitter and wrong in my throat. I was hurting him, God I was hurting him, but I didn’t know how to stop.  
“Yes you do!” He whirled, slamming his fist into the wall with a loud crack. “Fuck Louis can’t you just admit it to yourself!”  
I opened my mouth, trying to form some kind of logical answer, but Harry was striding toward me, his face grim and I couldn’t think, much less speak. And then I was smashed against the kitchen wall and the only thing I could feel was him. It was as if he’d devoured my senses until he was all there was, his lips devouring mine, his scent filling my nose, his breathing in my ears and the taste of him on my tongue.  
His hands tangled in my hair, pulling my head back against the wall. I felt my hands drift around his waist of their own accord, resting on his lower back as he crushed me against the wall. I couldn’t think, couldn’t get my thoughts to connect to my limbs as he kissed me, an odd sort of delirium making it impossible to do anything but let myself fall.  
It wasn’t a soft kiss, or a careful one, it was too late for that. His lips moved roughly against mine, tongue fervently exploring my mouth like if he tried hard enough he could swallow me up. There was something desperate at the way he clutched at my neck, the faint taste of alcohol on his lips. He pulled back, breathing ragged, something like anguish in his eyes.  
“You know I haven’t been with anyone in two months?” He asked, his mouth mere centimeters from mine, our foreheads pressed together. “Because I always end up thinking about you. You and your stupid suspenders and the way you laugh, and how you look when you sleep, and the way you fix your hair even when you already look perfect and how your voice sounds when you’re tired, and how your body feels when you let me hold you and I can’t do it, because there’s nothing wrong with them except they aren’t you, and there’s nothing I can do to make them you and I-” He trailed off for a moment, picking back up in a whisper. “I just want you to tell me you feel the same way. I need you, Louis. I need you more than you’ll ever know.”  
I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. I was straight, and he was best friend, and there were so many reasons why it could never work. “Harry I-”  
But I didn’t have to finish. He could read the rejection in my face, and I could see as he slowly crumpled in on himself, his earlier fire replaced with a sort of muted sadness, like he’d always known the answer but had been too afraid to hear it.  
He pressed his lips to mine once more, closing his eyes for a moment as he lingered on my mouth, before pulling back and untangling his hands from my hair and drawing them down from my shoulders, his fingers tracing the outlines of my arms like he was trying to memorize them. Maybe he was.  
“It’s okay.” He murmured, his fingers threading clumsily through mine for a moment as he pulled himself away. “It’s okay, I understand.”  
I tried to backtrack in a vain effort to somehow repair whatever damage I’d done. “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean-”  
He shook his head, turning away from me as he pulled his coat back over his shoulders. “Please don’t do this. You’re making it worse.” He wrapped his hand around the doorknob, seeming to ponder it for a moment before giving it one slow turn.  
I wrung my hands, torn between the need to comfort him and a deep seated confusion that was making it hard to do anything. I needed to help him but I had no idea how, my mind coming up blank. How had this even _happened_? “Just tell me where you’re going.”  
“I don’t know.” He said, pausing in the doorway, as if he were waiting for something. His breath caught once, then twice, a soft noise that made the air in my lungs feel like broken glass.  
“Harry,” I began tentatively, stepping closer to the doorway. “Are you crying?”  
He didn’t look at me. “It doesn’t matter.”  
I took another step forward, this one more confident. “Please, just at least tell me where you’re going!”  
He shook his head, turning to take one last look at me before stepping through the doorway. His eyes shone wet and green in the low light, sad and completely closed off to me. He never shut me out. Never. That hurt just as much as seeing him cry. “It doesn’t matter, Louis.” He repeated. “It doesn’t matter.”  
And then he closed the door softly behind him, leaving me alone in the kitchen, the taste of him still on my lips.  
.  
Chapter 5

11:00 Zayn  
What’s wrong with Harry and why is he on my couch.  
11:01 Zayn  
I did not agree to this. Come and get him.  
11:05 Zayn  
Did you two fight?  
11:10 Zayn  
He’s not talking and he’s eating my eggs. Pick up your boyfriend.  
11:12 Zayn  
I don’t have enough eggs for three people, Louis. If he eats all my eggs I am holding you completely responsible.  
11:16 Zayn  
Eggs are gone. I’m calling Liam. You brought this upon yourself.

2 missed calls - Liam

11:37 Liam  
Zayn sas something’s up with u an Harry. You want to takl?  
11:40 Liam  
Realy though, wat’s wrong?  
11:41 Liam  
Call me wen u get this!

I held my phone up to my face, staring at the screen glumly. There had been a few blissful moments this morning where I had actually forgotten about what had happened last night, but unfortunately that serenity was short lived. Every moment was painfully memorable now, from the way his voice broke to the look on his face as he pulled the door shut behind him. At least I knew where he was, that was something. Except it wasn’t, because he’d shut me out and probably wouldn’t talk to me ever again.  
I hit reply, staring at the keyboard for a few seconds before launching my phone angrily across the room. What the fuck was I supposed to say? Oh yeah, my best friend told me he loved me and I told him I didn’t give a shit about him. Did I mention that I can’t fucking do anything right, and I feel like a piece of shit, and he probably hates me now, and we kissed and it wasn’t the worst thing in the entire world? No, this was something I couldn’t talk to the boys about. This was something I couldn’t talk to anyone about.  
I wondered if Harry had told them anything or if he’d clammed up completely. Harry wasn’t really big on the silent treatment, but there was something about those moments in the kitchen that seemed so inherently private, like something that shouldn’t be spoken of.  
It was just all so _wrong_. Harry and I never fought, ever. In fact, we barely even had misunderstandings. It was like we operated on the same wavelength, our minds completely in sync. This was like someone had turned the dial all the way to 10, sending me rocketing into uncharted space without a map or an oxygen tank.  
I sat up slowly, my tired body cracking in protest. I hadn’t slept well at all last night, my dreams plagued with the feel of him; the crush of his lips on mine, his tongue as it explored my mouth. It made me feel stupid and dirty and terrible all at once.  
I slid off my mattress, goosebumps appearing on my arms as I cast my covers aside. The thin tee shirt and tight jeans from last night still clung uncomfortably to my body. In the confusion and unhappiness that had occurred I’d completely forgotten to change. I pulled my jeans off with sleepy fingers and tugged on a pair of mostly clean sweatpants, wondering why I felt so world-weary all of a sudden. Well, maybe I did know why. My best friend was possibly gay and possibly not my best friend anymore.  
I stood in the middle of my bedroom, staring out the window at the street outside, watching the cars streak back and forth under the heavy hanging clouds. It was so still in the morning without the soft mumble of the radio or coffee in the pot or even just the warm knowledge of Harry’s presence in the next room. It was going to drive me crazy.  
I trudged out into the kitchen and my heart sank at its emptiness, as if by some strange miracle I’d expected Harry to be waiting there for me, telling me that breakfast was ready, sunshine and that I’d better wipe that frown off my face before he had to come over there and wipe it off for me. But there was no cheerful Harry at the stove, or anywhere in sight.  
I walked over to the cabinet and opened it, getting the pan out and setting it on the stove just like I’d seen Harry do countless times. I had my hand on the dial to turn on the stove when I paused. How do you make scrambled eggs anyway? Do you crack the eggs right into the pan? Do you have to use a bowl? Did Harry use a bowl? I think so. Maybe. Was there also a fork involved? And when do you add salt and pepper? How do you know when they’re done?  
I took a small step away from the stove, pan still untouched. I couldn’t even fucking make myself breakfast. I could practically feel everything crash down on me, feel as everything became too much to bear and suddenly I was on the floor and my head was in my hands and I couldn’t do anything but sit there like a fucking waste of space.  
I couldn’t function without Harry. My body didn’t know how.  
And that’s when I knew that maybe him being in love with me wasn’t such a strange idea after all.  
And maybe I was a little bit in love with him too.  
xx  
Thirty minutes later I’d managed to drag my sorry ass in and out of the shower and down to a cozy coffee shop near my apartment. I was still wearing the tee shirt and semi-clean sweat pants from earlier and my hair probably looked awful, but there was no one here to judge me for it but a business man on a laptop and two middle aged women eating scones. And if I was going to be honest, I wasn’t really in a caring about what people thought about me kind of mood.  
I took a long sip of my coffee, picking at the glazed donut I’d purchased only a few minutes before. I needed to talk to Harry. I’d known it since I’d gotten up this morning, but I’d been staring at my phone for the last ten minutes and I still wasn’t any closer to typing out a message. Besides, what could I say?  
I thought about what he’d told me last night, about how he couldn’t be with anyone else because they weren’t me and there was nothing that he could do to make them me. It made my stomach flutter in a way that was not entirely platonic.  
God, I did have feelings for him, didn’t I. But that didn’t mean I was gay, right? Right? My mind drifted to thoughts of Hannah. I thought I’d loved her, and in a way I had, but it had been so easy to walk out of that relationship. When we’d been apart I’d missed her, but not like this. When I wasn’t around Harry, it was like a piece of me had gotten up and walked away. I’d always just passed it off as just being really good friends, but now...  
I picked up my phone, tapping out a quick message and sending it before I could lose my nerve.

Louis 12:45  
\- I’m at the Starbucks by our house. Can I buy you coffee?  
Harry 12:47  
\- No.

I sighed, massaging my temples. That had gone just about as badly as I’d expected. I’d fucked up, pretty badly actually, but we couldn’t spend the rest of our lives being stupid and awkward. We lived together for God’s sake. We were a band. I had to fix this, and waiting would only make it worse.

Louis 12:47  
\- Just come and see me.  
Harry 12:48  
\- Please try not to be offended when I tell you that you’re pretty much the last person I want to see right now.

I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting in apprehension. I didn’t know how to handle this situation, didn’t know what to say. I wished I could just pour all my emotions into the screen, to take his face in my hands and stare into his lovely green eyes and make him know just how I felt. I typed the only thing I could think, the only really coherent word in my head.

Louis 12:49  
-Please.

My finger hovered over the i, fear making my heartbeat echo in my eardrums. Jesus, why was this so hard? I spelled out the three words slowly, trying them out in my mind. I love you. I love you.  
I took a deep breath and took a long swig of my coffee. I was in love with Harry Styles. And the more I repeated the words in my head the more I realized they were true, and that somehow, in the dark hidden reaches of my brain I’d always known they were.  
It wasn’t that he was perfect, far from it. He was silly and odd and stupid and insecure and conceited and it was because of every flaw that I loved him. Because they weren’t flaws, but little pieces of perfection.

Harry 12:54  
-Fine.

A slow hopeful smile drew across my face, nervous and a little bit excited. He was coming. I tried to think about what I’d say, how to tell him. I supposed I’d know when he got here. But what if I froze up? What if it came out all wrong?  
The fifteen minutes it took Harry to get to the coffee shop were some of the longest of my life. I think I’d managed to rocket myself to insanity and back again at least three times.  
He pushed open the door, the bell ringing as he stepped onto the mat. He lingered in the doorway, looking around for a moment before his pale green eyes found mine. It struck me in that moment that he was kindof beautiful. I was fairly sure that guys were supposed to be hot or manly or something, but there was something about the way his hair tumbled down around his ears and his lips fit together that wasn’t simply handsome but undeniably beautiful.  
I suppose that to anyone else he would have looked like shit. He was wearing last night’s clothes, his white tee shirt showing innumerable wrinkles and his navy blazer all rucked up and messy, like he’d slept in it. He had deep purple shadows under his eyes and he looked not simply tired but completely weary, like someone who needed to take a few advil and go straight back to bed.  
He strode over to my table and slid into the chair across from me, looking rather irritated that he’d ended up here at all.  
I could feel the words bubbling up inside me, bursting to come out. I just wanted to hold him, to wipe that miserable look off his face and tell him that it was all going to okay. “Harry, I-”  
He cut me off, his voice hoarse and tired. “Louis wait.”  
I stopped, my proclamation still hanging on my lips. “But I-”  
He held up a hand, his eyes completely unreadable. No, not quite unreadable, more dead, void of his usual spark. “Just let me get this out first.”  
I cocked my head, not sure where this conversation was going. I didn’t like that I couldn’t read his next move in his face, it made me nervous and a little bit sad. “Okay.”  
He took a deep breath, speaking with the careful meter of someone who knew exactly what they were going to say before they said it. “What happened last night was a mistake. You were right, I was drunk and I wasn’t thinking straight. You know I love you Louis, but not like that. I don’t know why I kissed you. It was an accident, and I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry I did this to you.”  
I just stared at him, unable to move. I tried to configure my face into the appropriate expression, feeling suddenly as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I nodded like a bobble head doll, forcing myself to respond. “Of course. I- Well- That’s what I thought.”  
He was lying. He had to be. He’d said he was in love with me. The expression on his face had been so genuine, the way he’d kissed me like he wanted to swallow me up couldn’t have just been the alcohol. But here he was, staring at me like he was expecting me to be relieved, to somehow derive enjoyment from this.  
He smiled at my answer, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Good. Do you think we could forget it ever happened?”  
I felt like my insides were being torn apart. Of course I couldn’t forget about it. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop all this, but there was something in his expression that stopped me, a kind of pleading there that begged me to play along, to please just pretend with him. “Okay.”  
“Thanks.” He paused, looking over at the people walking outside and avoiding my eyes completely. “Can we not tell the boys about this?”  
I nodded, an odd numbness pervading my body. “It’s better if they don’t know.”  
He nodded, finally looking at me, his expression bright. There was a falseness to it, like he was trying too hard to make everything shiny and happy again. “So did you get around to picking up milk on your way home?” He began, deliberately changing the subject.  
“No, I forgot.” How could he just pretend that everything was okay, just like that? I felt like I was going to be sick, my entire body screaming at me to do something, to shake him by the shoulders and make him stop pretending. He was lying, I could feel it deep in my bones, but he didn’t want me to make him tell the truth. So I didn’t. Because as much as it made me want to rip my insides out, I wouldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to. Because I was Louis and he was Harry, and I couldn’t do it. I never could.  
“Well grab your coffee and hurry up, Lou. We have grocery shopping to do.” He said with a smile, standing up and straightening his jacket.  
And I didn’t have the heart to do anything but stand up with a smile and follow him out of the coffee shop, noticing that he never once made a move to touch me, to ruffle my hair or grab my wrist or brush his fingers across my shoulder. And suddenly, as he grinned back at me from the sidewalk I wanted nothing more to sink into the concrete, drowning in the sick normalcy of it all. Because nothing was normal. If I was honest with myself, I wasn’t sure anything would never be normal again.  
I was in love with Harry Styles. And he was just my best friend.  
.  
Chapter 6

It was a week later when I finally accepted it; Harry was never going to touch me again. There were no hands resting on my kneecaps during interviews, no arms slung around my shoulders, no lips pressed against my neck, and no eager fingers tugging at the cotton of my tee shirts. It wasn’t that he’d stopped touching everyone, he was just as affectionate with the other boys as he’d always been, but I hadn’t felt so much a friendly hand on my arm since that morning. I’d tried to ignore it, hoped that I’d been imagining it, but I was positive now. He wouldn’t lay a hand on me.  
I didn’t want to be jealous, didn’t want to miss being the center of his affections, but here I was, staring daggers at my happy meal as he goofed off with the rest of the boys.  
“Niall, look! I have fluttershy!” Exclaimed Harry triumphantly, holding up the yellow and pink pony, seemingly oblivious to my internal turmoil.  
“I have-” He paused mid-laugh to look at the package. “Rarity!”  
Harry galloped his pony across the table toward Niall, having it do flips off his arm as the blonde tried not to fall off the bench altogether. “Do we have time to go play in the ball pit?” He asked, his face bright at the prospect of plastic play equipment.  
“Well I’m not done combing Rainbow Dash’s hair.” Interjected Zayn primly as he ran the tiny plastic comb through his pony’s mane.  
“Please?” Harry wheedled, shooting him his best dimpled smile. My stomach turned at the look, selfishly wishing that he would look at me like that. It wasn’t that Harry was ignoring me or anything like that, but there was something in his eyes every time he looked at me that wasn’t genuine, like he was hiding something behind his pale green gaze.  
“Well I’m going.” Niall jumped up, abandoning his pony on the table, followed closely by Zayn and Harry as they all headed for the slides like they were seven rather than seventeen.  
“You coming, Lou? Liam?” Asked Niall, his grin stretching from ear to ear. I managed to quirk my lips upward, cheered slightly by the look of pure delight on the Irish boy’s face. I snuck a look over at Harry, who was staring at me from the entrance to the slide. I captured his gaze for a moment, catching an odd kind of hope in his eyes, like he wanted me to come with him. For a moment, I almost considered it. And then the expression was gone just as quick as it had appeared, hidden by the walls he was putting up around himself.  
“You staying?” Asked Liam, taking a sip of his soda from his place next to me in the booth.  
I nodded. “Yep.”  
“We’re sitting this one out.” He called out to the blonde. “You guys have fun. Don’t break anything!”  
He looked down at me as Niall bounded away, and I tried to configure my face into a halfway convincing smile. It was clear from the look in his eyes that he wasn’t fooled. “Something’s up with you and Harry, isn’t there?” He asked, his tone so full of concern that I couldn’t make myself lie to him, merely giving my head a small affirmative shake. I’d gotten so good at hiding how I felt about Harry, and it wasn’t like I’d spent the entire week moping around, but it was hard to stay happy all the time when my best mate was pretending everything was alright when it certainly was not.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, going full Daddy Direction on me. I felt a tiny, but genuine smile appear on my face at his words. He really did care about me, about the whole band.  
“Not really.” What I really wanted was someone who could fix this whole situation with a wave of their hand, and in that area even Daddy Direction was powerless.  
“Is there anything I can do?” He eyes, usually wide and playful, were serious, fixed on my face as if he could read my thoughts if he tried hard enough.  
I nodded, scooting over next to him and resting my head on his warm shoulder. He was thicker than Harry, less wiry and more compact, and he smelled different too. Harry’s words rang in my head for the umpteenth time. _There’s nothing wrong with them except they aren’t you, and there’s nothing I can do to make them you._  
I buried my head in his chest, sighing as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, Tommo. Promise.”  
I didn’t respond. It wasn’t going to be okay and I wasn’t going to be okay, at least not for a long time. But it wasn’t like Harry was my entire life. I still had the rest of the band, and my mum and sisters, and my friends from back home.  
And for now, I had Liam, and it wasn’t what I wanted and it wasn’t even close to what I needed, but it was enough.  
xx  
Not to be overdramatic, but if I were to rank the months of my life from best to worst, this one would be very, very close to the bottom. Watching him was like the most exquisite kind of pain. It was sick, it was unhealthy, but I couldn’t make give him up.  
Living with him was nearly impossible, as my ability to function normally plummeted the moment he entered a room. He was always on the edge of my thoughts and seeing him every morning only served to remind me of what I could never have. Though I supposed the only thing worse than having him but holding him would be to not have him at all.  
Things, despite Liam’s promises that they would, just couldn’t seem to resume normalcy. It still made me want to die every time he looked at me with that fake smile, every time he slung his arm around one of the other boys or avoided my gaze. I was still hyperaware of his every moment, who he touched, whose jokes made him laugh, and every wisecrack he made. Luckily, I’d gotten better at hiding how I felt. If Harry Styles could build up walls behind his lovely eyes, then so could I.  
It had been a busy month, full of interviews and practices, but I’d still found time to ruminate over my situation and basically feel sorry for myself. I was just thankful he hadn’t gotten himself a girlfriend. Harry was known for being a little bit of a slut, but if he was sleeping with anyone, they weren’t serious enough for me to notice. I had the knowledge that even if I didn’t have him, no one else did either, and it was the only thing keeping me sane.  
We’d just a spent a long day at rehearsal, learning some new choreography, if it could really be called that. Mostly it was just ‘Louis stand here for this part of the song, and then point at this part, and then Zayn, you move forward...’ for close to five hours.  
After we’d finally been let go, Liam had announced that we were getting chinese food, after which the whole band would invade the apartment Harry and I shared for some movie night relaxing. About a hour later they were all camped out on our couch, shoveling the last vestiges of orange chicken and fried rice into their mouths as I popped a bag of popcorn. The microwave let out two short beeps and I pulled out the bag, tugging at the corners to open it, steam curling from the top as I did so.  
“Popcorn ready yet, Lou?” Came Niall’s voice from the other room, impatient despite just finishing dinner.  
“I’m working on it!” I called back, adding the still hot popcorn to the big bowl on the counter. I scooped it up, carrying it out to the sitting room.  
While I’d been in the kitchen they’d queued up the movie, the theme from We Go Together on a minute loop. I dropped the bowl into Liam’s lap for him to take care of, not trusting Niall-the-food-vacuum with the popcorn.  
I surveyed the couch for a place to sit. Liam and Niall had taken the floor, while Harry and Zayn laid claim to either ends of the couch.  
A flying popcorn kernel hit me on the temple, directing my attention to Zayn. “Lights off.” He mumbled around a mouth-full of snack food.  
I moved for the switch, hitting it so the only light in the room stemmed from the screen. There was a small scramble as Liam and Niall tried to figure out how to work the remote before they finally managed to start the movie. I hopped over Niall as he reached for the popcorn, landing on the couch between Zayn and Harry. I told myself that I chose the spot because it was the only one available, but if I was being honest, I just wanted to sit close to Harry. I’d become like some kind of addict, trying to get my fix in the small brushes of our knees under the table or fingers skimming past each other as we both reached for something.  
I lay back against the soft fabric of the couch, nuzzling up against Zayn’s shoulder. He smiled down at me, curling his body so mine could fit against his. Sometimes I was positive Zayn knew exactly what was going on with me and Harry, maybe even more than we knew ourselves. He was much more observant than Niall and more intelligent than Liam, and always seemed to be waiting with a hug whenever everything got to be too much.  
We were halfway through Sandy meeting the Pink Ladies when I noticed that not only was Harry eating popcorn, but he was eating it loudly. I turned to watch him out of the corner of my eye, his crunching distracting me from the movie.  
“Harry.” I whispered, not moving from Zayn’s side. “Harry.”  
He turned to look at me. “Yes?”  
“Could you please chew a little quieter?”  
“Why? Is it bothering you?” He asked with his mouth held open, his signature cheekiness working its way into his expression. I felt my stomach clench, turning with a feeling I couldn’t quite describe. Something was different tonight, like in the darkness of the movie his walls weren’t quite so high, like he couldn’t be bothered to pretend.  
“It’s distracting.” I countered, poking him with my bare foot.  
His eyes sparkled, the delicious half smile that I so coveted painted across his face. “What are you going to do about it?”  
I thought for a moment, trying to come up with the appropriate threat. “If you don’t stop, I will cuddle you.”  
He shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth, holding his arms out wide. “Bring it.”  
You know that moment that happens when you’re standing at the end of a precipice and you can no longer just stand on the edge? You’re forced to choose between stepping back to safety or flinging yourself off? This was that moment. And I took the dive.  
I untangled myself from Zayn, crawling across the couch and laying down on Harry’s chest. I felt him freeze for just an instant before he melted into me, our bodies fitting together seamlessly. His arm wrapped tentatively around my shoulders, lightly resting there like he wasn’t sure if I would allow it. I reached up for his fingers, wrapping my smaller hand in his larger one.  
I let my eyes slide shut, breathing him in, letting myself absorb this moment, knowing in my heart that it couldn’t last. His body was so familiar, so perfect and for this short time it was mine. I still remembered each curve, the way his heartbeat felt against my cheek, and how his arm draped over my shoulder, as familiar as if they’d never left at all.  
For the first time in weeks I felt okay, like the holes in my chest were finally filled.  
xx  
It was twenty minutes later and by some miracle, he hadn’t yet pushed me off. To be honest, I had a little bit of a cramp in my neck, but I was afraid if I adjusted I would lose my place.  
Five minutes later and the cramp in my neck had only increased. I shifted to look up at Harry, my discomfort overruling the desire to never leave his arms. “Harry this is not all that comfortable.”  
He refused to relinquish his grip, whispering his reply into my hair. “Well that’s too damn bad.”  
“Could we readjust?” I whispered, my lips dangerously close to his jawline.  
He seemed to ponder my question for a moment. “If you insist.” I wriggled out of his embrace, leaning up against Zayn’s thigh.  
He tapped my shoulder, gave me a mischievous smile, and looked back over at Harry. I made a face at him, not oblivious to the way my heart seemed to flop around in my chest at his unspoken quip. Before I could look back over at Harry, I felt fingers tap my kneecap, tugging at the cuff of my bright red pants. My breath caught in my throat at the contact, not daring to believe that he’d actually reached out to me.  
But there he was, lying on the couch in the semi-darkness with his hand extended towards me, beckoning me into his embrace. I crawled over, sliding between him and the back of the couch, spooning against his side. He twisted backward, wrapping his arm around my neck and holding me to his chest. I let my head find its place there, wrapping my hand around his shoulder, running my fingers over the the hard muscle.  
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I could only lay there, our bodies tangled together perfectly. I felt him work his way down to my waist, his hand nesting itself in the dip there.  
I had Harry back. My Harry. My perfect, lovely, cheeky, Harry. And I didn’t know how long I’d get to keep him, but for now just to hold him was enough. To feel his hands on my skin and the regular huff of his breathing could sustain me, at least for the time being.  
We were already to the car race by the time he spoke again, so softly I wasn’t sure I’d heard it at all. “Lou?”  
I murmured in response, too lulled into fuzzy complacency to form words.  
“This is nice.” And over the movie I wasn’t entirely positive he’d actually spoken the words, but the hum of them still hung in the air like some intangible kind of comfort. I looked up at him, catching him looking right back down at me with an almost forlorn expression on his face. It was like I was watching him through a pane of glass, both of us with our hands pressed to the surface, but never able to reach through and touch.  
I scooted upwards, not entirely sure what I was doing but knowing that I needed to somehow communicate to him what he meant to me, to let him know he wasn’t allowed to repeat this last month. I propped myself up to his level so we were nose to nose. I was reminded suddenly of that night around the campfire where I’d woken up to the reverse of this situation, him hovering over me in the crisp night time air. I remembered thinking he was going to kiss me. And now here we were.  
But I couldn’t kiss him, no matter how much I wanted to press my lips to his lovely pink ones and never take a breath again. So I just gave him a smile and moved down to his ear, the soft skin of his cheek brushing mine as I whispered to him. “I missed you, Hazza.”  
My heart beat seemed to skip forward as he replied in my own ear, his voice low. “I missed you too, Lou.”  
I sunk back into my place on his chest. “Good.”  
He laughed softly, turning away from the screen and tucking himself into my body. We were chest to chest, nose to nose, his body enveloping mine in the darkness until he was all there was.  
“You’re going to miss the movie.” I whispered.  
“Don’t care.”  
I lay back into the couch, wrapping my arms around his strong shoulders and letting my eyes fall closed. I was full, warm, and I had Harry laying so close to me I could feel the slow, even rhythm of his breathing. I didn’t know how tomorrow would be, or the next day, but for now, in this moment, everything was perfect.  
.  
Chapter 7  
He slammed me against the bed, our bodies crashing against the comforter in a tangle of limbs. His fingers gripped my hips, grinding my body upwards to meet his as his lips worked against mine, our tongues fighting for dominance. I’d wanted this for so long, to feel him against me like this, to taste him in my mouth and it was finally happening. It was everything I’d never dared to imagine and so much more.  
I balled my fists in the thin cotton of his shirt, wanting to rip it off but unwilling to let our mouths separate. He seemed to be having similar thoughts, relinquishing his hold on me to rip his shirt off, before attacking my mouth with renewed vigor.  
I reached up into his curls, ensnaring my fingers in the silky strands. It was so hard to figure out where to put my hands. I wanted to touch him all over, to feel every inch of his body with my fingertips.  
His nails dug into the soft skin of my hipbones, hard enough to leave tiny red halfmoons. I gasped at the contact, my back arcing up from the sheets, my fingers tugging at his hair as I fought to remain in control. He moaned softly into my mouth, the sound sending shivers down my spine.  
He pulled back without warning, staring down at me so the tips of our noses just brushed. He looked nearly edible in the low light of my lamp, his lips bruised and parted, pupils blown wide with lust. “Louis.” His voice was deep, with a rough ragged edge.  
“Why are you stopping?” I breathed, my fingers clenched in his hair. I could feel my growing erection rubbing against his leg through the fabric of my boxers, making my breath uneven.  
He didn’t speak for a moment, just stared into my eyes, his gaze searing and searching and enough to make me squirm underneath him. “You’re mine.”  
He moved more slowly now, bringing his face down to my ear, his voice nearly a growl. “Do you understand? You’re mine. Just mine.” His teeth closed around my neck, his lips sucking on the soft skin there. It wasn’t like the playful hickeys we gave each other during interviews or the friendly neck kisses of before, but something much darker and quite a bit more dangerous.  
He bit down possessively, hard enough that I was sure it was going to be bruised by morning. I keened softly, unable to keep the sound down as he moved down to my collarbone, his hands roaming my lower back.  
I was completely at the mercy of him and his body, unable to resist even if I wanted to. It was terrifying and electrifying at the same time, and I didn’t want it to stop. “Harry, Harry please.”  
He ground himself against me, his cock rubbing against mine in a way that sent jolts of pleasure through my body. I let my fingers fall from his hair, sliding down his back and resting on his waist, pulling his hips against mine, desperate to feel that friction again.  
“What do you want me to do?” He asked, not stopping his assault on my neck.  
I hesitated a moment before my wanting overpowered my dignity. “Fuck me.”  
He laughed, a low throaty sound that practically exuded sex. “Say it again.” I felt his hand as it trailed down my waist and paused at the waistband of my boxers, teasing the elastic between two fingers. I gasped, the soft brushes of his fingers against my skin nearly pushing me over the edge.  
“Harry.” My voice broke on the second syllable as he drew his fingers slowly downward, thin fabric the only thing between him and my cock. “Harry!”  
“Lou?” And his voice wasn’t sultry or rough but merely soft and sleepy. But why would-  
I felt my eyes snap open, terror flooding my body as I realized what was happening. I was dreaming about Harry Styles and he was standing in my doorway. _Fuck. FUCK._ **FUCK FUCK FUCK.**  
“Lou, are you alright? You were saying my name and I got worried.” He seemed to pause, looking down at the floor. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”  
So he still hadn’t caught on to what was happening. Maybe I could actually manage to come out of this not totally and completely humiliated. I scooted up in bed, keeping the covers pulled up around my chest, hoping to hide the fact that I was still painfully hard. Oh god this was embarrassing. I was just glad it was dark enough that he couldn’t see me blushing. “I was just having a nightmare, Curly.” I lied, hoping he’d play off the slight tremor in my voice as an after effect of the bad dream. “I’m okay.”  
He took a tentative step forward. “Do you want me to cuddle you?”  
I almost laughed at the absurdity of that statement in regards to my current situation. Did I want to cuddle him? Yeah, just as soon as I was done wanking myself off in the bathroom I’d love to. But how could I say no? We’d only just started being comfortable around each other again, still re-testing the boundaries of our friendship after our month of avoidance. I didn’t want to fuck it up.  
“If you want to.” I replied quietly, crossing my fingers that he would magically decide to go back to bed.  
He didn’t. He slid into the covers beside me, his very presence almost unbearable. I tried to calm myself down, picturing first Susan Boyle, then the Queen doing the can can, but none of it worked. He was on the inside of my eyelids when I closed them and in my bed when I opened them. I just couldn’t win.  
I rolled over onto my side facing away from him, taking slow breaths. He crawled up behind me, fitting his body behind mine, his bare chest pressed against my back. “You’re all sweaty, Boo Bear.” He observed sleepily, draping an arm over my waist. “What were you dreaming about?”  
I intercepted the hand, guiding it up towards my shoulder and away from any problems areas. “I don’t really remember. We were at a concert I think, and I couldn’t find any of you, and I kept calling and calling but none of you would answer.”  
He pressed his lips against my shoulder blade, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. “Well I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”  
Normally, the sentiment would have made me smile. “Okay. Goodnight, Harry.”  
He nuzzled into my back. “Night, Lou.”  
It was about fifteen awkward, sexually frustrated minutes later when I finally became sure that Harry had fallen asleep. Now I had a problems on my hands, a rather uncomfortable problem that wasn’t exactly going to take care of itself. Not with my unfairly attractive best friend pressing his fucking dick into my back all night.  
I slid out of bed, my feet hitting the floor with a soft thump. I looked back at Harry, relieved to find him still out cold. I tip toed into the bathroom, closing the door as quietly as I could and sliding down the tile onto the cool floor.  
I reached into my pants, wrapping my hand around my cock with a guilty kind of relief. I let my head tilt back against the wall, sliding my boxers down my legs, shivering as I was exposed to the open air.  
I slid my hand up my shaft, wishing I wasn’t doing this at all, but knowing that I’d never get to sleep if I didn’t take care of myself. I closed my eyes, picturing Emma Watson, twisting my fingers in quick, practiced movements. I could feel myself get closer, but not close enough.  
“Fuck it.” I muttered, letting my mind wander to the the only face I really wanted to see, perfect pink lips, strong jawline and stupid fucking curls flashing behind my eyelids. I could picture him in perfect clarity, the way he’d stare down at me with that stupid sinful stare of his and wrap his hands around me lightly, teasingly, before succumbing to temptation.  
I could feel heat coiling in my groin, my heart racing, breath shallow as I thought of those two words he’d never really whispered in my ear. You’re mine.  
I came, hard and fast, finishing spent and exhausted on the linoleum. I hung my head, slowly coming down from my high. I stood carefully, moving to clean myself off, feeling vaguely sheepish about the whole thing. Though, as I realized as I crept back to bed, I was perhaps not as embarrassed as I should be. I’d just wanked off to my best friend for God’s sake, shouldn’t I feel pretty badly? If anything, I was just annoyed that it had only been in my imagination.  
I climbed back between the sheets, curling up next to Harry. He shifted at my touch, looking up at me with bleary eyes. “Lou...?”  
“I had to piss. Don’t worry about it.” I replied, curling up against him. He was so warm and real against my side I could barely stand it. I was sure I’d feel completely ridiculous and awkward in the morning, but for now all I could do was soak in the warmth of his body and let myself drift into sleep.  
I’d accepted earlier tonight that I had absolutely no fucking idea what I was doing when it came to our relationship. And that was okay, because I had a strong feeling that he didn’t have much of clue either.  
.  
Chapter 8

It was late morning, Harry was eating toast on the counter, and I was feeling like a bit of a prick. "So then, I try and pay the guy with american dollars because of course that's all I have in my pocket, and he just looks at me like I'm a fucking idiot." Harry continued around a mouthful of toast. Earlier, Harry had run to the store for some jam, only to find that he was decidedly low on adequate funds.  
    "You really should have seen that one coming, Haz." I replied, trying to exude normalcy despite the events of last night, most of which Harry seemed to blissfully ignorant of.  
    He threw his hands up, nearly whacking the buttery toast into the cabinet. "Not my fault!"  
    I snickered. "Yes it was."  
    "Well you're the one who used all the jam and forgot to tell me until, I don't know, ten in the morning." He teased, no venom in his words. Despite the awkwardness I felt every time I looked at his annoyingly attractive face, Harry seemed especially comfortable this morning, as if our relationship had finally managed to heal itself.      
    "I did tell you! You said you'd buy some!" I replied, tilting back in my chair and resting my feet on the table.  
    "Don't you lie to me, Louis Tomlinson." He went for the oven mitts laying on the counter, lobbing them at my head. I ducked out of the way with a snort, nearly falling out of the chair.  
    "I'm not!" I held up a hand like I was taking an oath, using the other to steady myself. "I wouldn't lie about serious issues like jam."  
    "Liar." He repeated, his smile almost a dare, egging me on.  
    "Twat." I stuck my tongue out at him, not accepting his challenge. Partially because he was all the way on the other side of the kitchen and partially because if I got my hands on him I wasn't sure that I'd be able to keep from ripping his clothes off.  
    "So mean, Boo Bear. I'm hurt, really." He said, his eyes sparkling even as he pretending to pout.  
    "What are you going to do about it?" I replied, pretending to examine my fingernails while studying him from the corner of my eye. Then, without warning of any kind, he’d launched himself off the counter and was hurtling towards me. I let out a squeak, springing off my chair and bounding out of the kitchen, Harry hot on my heels.  
    "Lies!" He yelled from behind me, brandishing his toast like he was going into battle.  
    "You're going to get butter on the walls!" I yelled back, leaping over the arm of the couch and running across the cushions, landing back on the carpet with a soft thump. I'd missed this, just careening around our apartment like fucking idiots. I loved talking to him and cuddling, but this was almost better. I didn't have to try or think about what I was doing I just did it, and it was wonderful. Of course I still had my dirty little secret, but he never had to know. We could just continue like this forever, Harry and Louis, totally platonic straight best mates. I could handle that. As long as he was with me, I knew everything was going end up alright.  
    I took at sharp right around a lamp, nearly tripping over the cord in my haste. "You'll never catch me!" I yelled triumphantly, before tripping and landing spectacularly on a conveniently placed couch. Harry threw himself after me with a rambunctious cry of FOR BUTTER! as he landed on my stomach.  
    "I think our neighbors probably hate us." I giggled, the lack of space between us making me lightheaded and just a little bit giddy.  
    He grinned widely, his body still draped over mine. "I bet they think we're lovely and charming."  
    "I sincerely doubt it." I replied, unable to keep a gleeful smile off my face.  
    A brief ringing interrupted his reply, directing his attention to the cell phone in the pocket of his sweatpants. He wriggled for a moment before he finally managed to fish the phone out, checking the alert. "It's Niall."  
    I pushed myself up onto my elbows, wondering if he was ever planing on getting off of me or if we were just going to sit like this the whole afternoon. I found I was rather fond of that second prospect. "What does he want?"  
    Harry scanned the message."Oh fuck! I told him I was going to be over to his place at noon. He's going to to teach me to play guitar."  
    "And what time is it now? I asked with a smirk, nearly positive that he was running at least a touch behind schedule.  
    He looked sheepish. "12:04."     
    I flicked him on the nose with my pointer finger. "You're late."   
    "Quiet, Tommo." He replied, leaning down to rub our noses together, my breath catching in my throat as he did so. He lingered there for a moment, his eye sparkling with mirth, then laughed and pulled back. He rolled off me, taking an alarmingly large bite of toast and heading for the door. "Stay out of trouble while I'm gone!"  
    "Don’t count on it!" I called from my place on the couch, watching as he flew out the door, leaving me in the empty apartment.  
   
xx  
   
"Zayn, you have chocolate on your face." I observed from the arm chair I'd nabbed at the back of the coffee shop.  
“I bet it looks pretty.” He replied, taking a bite out of his chocolate croissant and sending a waterfall of flaky crumbs down the front of his tight black tee shirt.  
I rolled my eyes, sipping at my coffee. It was the same coffee shop I’d been sitting in when I’d first realized how I felt about Harry. I could see the table we’d been sitting in from where I sat, a professional looking woman occupying the very chair I’d been in. “You look like a fucking idiot.”  
"Well lick it off if it's bothering you.” He teased, waggling his eyebrows at me.  
I stuck my tongue out. “You’re a prat.”  
“All day, all night.” He replied, throwing his feet onto the table between us. “Now don’t tell me you just called me here because you like my pretty face, you want my advice about what to do about Harry, don’t you?”  
My mouth fell open at his statement, which he seemed to take immense delight in. “But how did- what you do know about me and Harry?” I’d always suspected Zayn knew more than he was telling, but I hadn’t expected him to be so blunt about it.  
He laughed, still amusedly debonair. “You two don’t exactly exude heterosexuality, Lou.”  
I looked at him indignantly. “Just because I may or may not have a thing for Harry does not mean that I’m gay.”  
He gave me a look that just dripped with incredulity. “Louis. Really. Are we having this conversation?”  
“I’m not gay!” I replied, perhaps at a decibel and pitch slightly too high for the relatively quiet coffee shop. I lowered it back to an acceptable level, leaning forward. “But I’m not.”  
Zayn crossed him arms. “So you wouldn’t fuck me? If you knew Harry wouldn’t be mad?”  
I crossed my arms too, wondering suddenly as if allowing Zayn to help me out with my problems was really the best idea. “Well I really don’t see how that’s-”  
He smirked, his dark eyes teasing but alarmingly intense. “So you wouldn’t?”  
I stared at him, not allowing myself to consider the possibility. I mean, I’d been with girls, I liked girls and boobs and curves. I was just Harry-sexual, it didn’t mean I was gay. “No.”  
“If I do something, will you promise not to hit me?” He asked.  
I nodded slowly, feeling a bit wary. I didn’t know where this was going and I was fairly sure that I didn’t like it, but I trusted Zayn, even if he was a little crazy. “Okay.”  
He nodded. “Good.” And then he’d leaned forward and caught his lips in mine, and his hand was resting on my neck and I was kissing Zayn fucking Malik in the middle of a fucking coffee shop. I made a panicked noise, my hands hovering about my head.  
“Christ, calm down.” He murmured into my lips, before biting softly on my bottom one, causing my mouth to open in surprise. His tongue darted sneakily into my mouth as he deepened the kiss, using the element of ‘holy fuck what is happening to me’ to gain the upper hand.   
Once I got over the initial shock of the matter, I came to the unpleasant realization that I was not nearly as disgusted as I should have been. His lips were fuller than Harry’s and he tasted like chocolate and smoke, his stubble scratching my chin in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. In fact, kissing him was, well, it was decidedly not half bad.   
He pulled back, his eyes far too amused for my liking. “Now tell me you’re not gay.”  
I slid against the back of my chair moodily, crossing my arms over my chest. “Not gay.”  
“But you liked it.” He continued, taking another self assured bite of his croissant. “I felt you kiss me back, Louis Tomlinson.”  
“Just because I like kissing boys doesn’t mean I’m gay.” I grumbled, irritated to find that he was right.  
He laughed, nearly choking on his most recent mouthful. “Louis, I’d like you to re-evaluate that last sentence and try again.”  
“Fuck you.” I supposed the idea that was gay wasn’t all that strange. I mean, sexuality had never been something I had been all that insecure about. I found women attractive and I found men attractive, but I’d just alway assumed I was straight. Now? Now I had no idea.   
"Liam and I have been making bets.” He said, ignoring my less than charitable reply. “He thinks it’ll be at least six months before you get together, but I’m banking on the increasing sexual tension to get us there within at least two.”  
I gave him a look. “So you want us to get together so you don’t lose the bet.”  
He returned the look. “No, I want you to get together because you make each other happy and every time you look at each other I want to throw up it’s so cute.”  
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face at his words. There was something about the way Zayn talked about Harry and I like we were not an ‘if’ but a ‘when’ that made me happy in a way I couldn’t quite describe. Still, he was wrong about Harry. Maybe he’d loved me at one point, but not now, not after I’d told him I didn’t feel the same way. “But he doesn’t have feelings for me.”  
Zayn blinked at me for a few moments. “You don’t seriously believe that do you?”  
“It’s the truth.” The memory of his rejection was still painful, and I tried not to think about it. In fact, I had been attempting to block out that night entirely. “He kissed me once, you know. And then he told me it was an accident and he’d been drunk and that he didn’t mean it.”  
Zayn cocked an eyebrow, not looking as disheartened by this as I’d expected. “Really? And did you kiss him back?”  
I stared at my fingers, picking at the side of my fingernail. “Not exactly.”  
He pointed an accusatory finger at me. “Let me get this straight, he kisses you, you freak out, he tells you he never meant it, and you believed him? Oh this is great. This is just too good.”  
“I fail to see what is so good about this situation, Zayn!” I replied with as much indignation as I could muster.   
“Louis!” He leaned back in his chair, a cackle escaping his mouth, causing the patrons around us to look up in confusion and mild annoyance. “Louis, he’s only saying that because he doesn’t think you like him back!”  
I had a rebuttal on my lips, but the logic in his words made me pause. Still, I didn’t want to let myself get too hopeful. “Harry likes girls.”  
Zayn snickered. “No he doesn’t.”  
“How would you know?’ I asked, crossing my arms defensively over my chest.  
Zayn opened his mouth like he was going answer, then closed it again, looking at bit guilty. “Well...”  
I jumped up in my chair, leaning towards him in shock. “Zayn Malik you didn’t!”  
He squirmed under my gaze, a dirty little smirk working its way onto his face. “We did.”  
I landed back into my chair. “I hate you so much right now.”  
“No you don’t.” He replied, poking my knee with his toe. “I’ll have you know it was pretty good. I mean, he’s very talent-”  
I shoved my fingers in my ears. “I am not hearing this.”  
He stuck his tongue out at me. “It was one time, no worries. And now you know he likes cock. That’s good news, right?”  
I dropped my face into my hands. “I can’t tell whether I want to strangle or hug you.”  
“Choose hug.” He advised. “Now, what are you going to do about this. I mean, you like him, he likes you, I want my twenty dollars, lets make this happen.”  
I felt nerves twist in my stomach, suddenly daunted by the prospect of actually having him. I mean, we’d been friends for so long... Would it be weird? Not to mention that I’d never been with a guy before. “But how?”  
“You’re just going to have to tell him how you feel.” He said with a shrug, like it was the easiest thing in the world.  
.  
Chapter 9  
            I don’t even know why I clicked on the article in the first place. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, or just to see what they had to say, but now all I could be sure of was the sick feeling in my stomach. I stared down at the comments, wishing they didn’t have this effect on me. I mean, I’d never even met these people, they didn’t know anything about me except what they’d be brainwashed to think, but as I stared at the words not even those thoughts could make me feel better.  
            The title even seemed to mock me, the words large and black. One Direction Gay Rumours? I think it had actually made me smile when I’d first read it, but now, staring at the rude words at the bottom, I was in a much less jovial mood.  
   
            _Fucking faggots. They all should fucking die._  
   
            _Seriously, I like their music, but I don’t know if I’d like them as much if they were gay. Like no offense, but I would probably stop listening to them._  
             
            I clicked off the page, wishing I could get the comments out of my head so easily. I hadn’t even thought about what would happen to One Direciton if people figured out that we weren’t straight, or at least that I wasn’t. I wanted to be with Harry, but I wouldn’t jeopardize the future of the band just for a relationship. It wasn’t fair to the rest of the boys.   
Xx  
             It was much later that evening when I devised a solution to my problem. I just had to get myself a girlfriend. Not a real one of course, but one who would pretend to be dating me for the media. She would be in on it of course, and I’d tell the rest of the boys, but to the general public I could be completely heterosexual. It was perfect, and I knew just the girl who’d do it.  
            Ironically enough, I’d met her through Harry. She’d given me her number a week or two ago at some party, and until a few minutes ago I’d had absolutely no intention of calling it. She wan’t a bad person by any means, a model I think, a perfectly nice girl, and under much different circumstances I might have actually dated her.  
            I heard the phone ring, once, twice, and a third time before she finally picked up. “Hello?”  
            I cleared my throat, preparing my speech. “Hi, this is Louis. Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson.” Oh god, when had I gotten so awkward?  
            Her voice brightened immediately. “Oh hi, Louis! I didn’t think you were ever going to give me a call.”  
            “Well here I am.” I replied, wondering if this was really the best idea. I mean, some random person’s opinion of my sexuality wasn’t the end of the world, was it? But no, I had to do what was best for the band. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”  
            “What do you need?”  
            I shoved my free hand in my pocket, feeling like a total idiot. “I was wondering if you could pretend to-“ I paused, wondering how to phrase this delicately. “If you could pretend to be my girlfriend.”  
            She made a noise that sounded like a giggle and I hurried on, feeling myself blush at the awkwardness of it all. “You wouldn’t have to do much, just say we’re dating and we’d probably have to do some photos for the media but that would be it. You could date other guys too, just as long as you were careful.”  
            She laughed. “Harry Styles is a very lucky man.”  
            I let out a groan. “How come everyone knows?!”  
            “I only suspected. And you just confirmed.” I could practically hear her grinning. “And I’d love to be your pretend girlfriend, Louis.”  
            I felt relief fill me. No one would ever have to know I was gay, just the boys and Eleanor, and my mom. I wondered briefly how I’d tell her, though if I was honest with myself, I had a strong feeling she wouldn’t be all that surprised. “Thankyou so much, Eleanor.”  
            “It’s nothing.” She paused, as if considering something. “How about coffee this Wednesday, pretend boyfriend?”  
            I smiled, trying desperately to ignore the slightly ill feeling at the pit of my stomach. “Sounds like a plan.”  
            “Excellent. Text me a time, I’ll be free all day.”  
            “I will. Bye, Eleanor.”  
            “Bye, Louis.” I heard the soft click of the line going dead and felt the last of the relief I’d been feeling turn to a kind of regretful sadness. Was this really the best way to fix my problem? By pretending to hide who I was? I sighed, running my hands through my hair, probably messing it up to no end. I’d come out to the world sometime. For now, this would just have to do.  
xx  
I’d been planning to tell the boys that night. They’d been out grocery shopping for most of the afternoon, an activity I’d skipped due to a combination of having a cold and being stiflingly lazy. Unfortunately, by the time they returned to their respective flats weighed down with groceries, they’d decided to forgo a communal dinner, preferring to retire to their own apartments for an early night, something that made me a little relieved, though I was loathe to admit it.  
Harry had been starving, so we ended up eating lukewarm pizza on the carpet in the living room, the cheese only partially melted. “Harry, this isn’t even pizza. This is ice bread.”  
“Tastes like pizza to me.” He replied, taking a large bite and grinning at me, sauce smeared on his chin.  
“Well I don’t know if it tastes like pizza, because I can’t bite into it.” I replied, waving the slice at him. Though it wasn’t exactly frozen, it was certainly not normal pizza temperature. Harry had decided that the 20 minutes on the box obviously included the amount of time required to pre-heat the oven. It didn’t.  
“Oh, Tommo the master chef over here wants to tell me how to run my kitchen!” Harry replied in mock indignation. “I’d like to see your culinary talents next time you want scrambled eggs at nine in the morning.”  
I pretended to be horrified. “Are you suggesting that my cooking skills are inadequate? THE NERVE OF YOU.”  
“Well I’m not the one who almost burned down the kitchen trying to make their best mate a birthday cake!” He replied, giggles beginning to break through his façade.  
“That was a good cake!” I replied, shaking my finger at him.  
He threw his crust in the direction of my head, missing by a good half meter. “Only because you called Liam after the smoke alarms went off!”  
I rolled toward him. “My cakes are perfect!”  
He intercepted me mid-roll, pulling my body up into his lap. “They’re lovely, if slightly poisonous.”  
I smiled up at him, the low light of our apartment casting shadows down his face, his hair hanging off his forehead in soft curls. I reached up to his nose, tapping it with my first two fingers. “Feed me.”  
He pulled a piece of pepperoni off the nearest slice, popping it into my mouth. “Happy?”  
“Very.” I thought about just telling Harry about Eleanor, but I couldn’t seem to make myself form the words. This was so perfect, this moment here just lying together on the floor, and I couldn’t bring myself to end it by talking about sexuality and fake girlfriends. I’d tell him tomorrow when I told the rest of the boys. It would be easier that way, especially with Zayn there, who I already knew I was gay. The word still felt funny on my tongue, like I hadn’t quite come to terms with it. Still, I was slowly getting comfortable with it, just like I’d had to get comfortable with the idea of me and Harry. It seemed strange at first, but also very right, like I was finally fixing something I hadn’t even known was broken.  
“Harry?” I began, not knowing what I wanted to say, but wanting to talk, just to hear his voice.  
“Yes, Boo?” He leaned back, pulling me with him so we were laying on the floor in an awkward pile of limbs, a position I never really seemed to get tired of.  
“I’m glad we’re friends again.” I wasn’t sure he’d ever really grasped how much I’d missed him that month. When he’d shut me out it had hurt more than I really wanted to admit, a slow dull pain that hadn’t really gone away until I’d gotten him safely into my arms again. Realization dawned on me, deep and all-encompassing, the reason why I couldn’t tell Harry how I felt becoming suddenly and abundantly clear.  
I couldn’t risk losing him again. There was always that chance that he didn’t feel the same way as I did and I couldn’t take that chance. I would rather live like this forever than take another month like that one. I couldn’t do that again, it would kill me.  
“Me too.” He whispered, and I recognized the familiar notes of impending sleep coloring his voice. I reached up towards the couch, pulling the soft throw blanket down and wrapping it around us until we were a cocoon of warm skin and soft cotton.  
“We’re not going to sleep on the floor, are we?” I asked, even as I rested my head in the crook of his neck, our chests pressed together, his arms draped haphazardly around my waist.  
He murmured something into my hair as a response, making no move to get up. I closed my eyes, wishing I could just stay here and never have to face anything ever again, wishing I could forget everything in the way he smelled and how he held me like he’d never leave my side.  
Lyrics chased themselves around my head as sleep overtook me, low and lulling in the half-light.  
 _If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?_  
.  
Chapter 10  
I woke up on the floor the next day, freezing, sick, and intensely not comfortable. The cold I’d had yesterday had manifested into a full blown fever overnight. I let out a feeble moan, reaching up to feel my forehead, the skin hot under my fingers. I shifted up onto my elbows, my bones aching with the sticky uncomfortable lethargy of sickness. My head pounded mercilessly as I sat up, dizziness nearly making me fall back to the floor.  
Harry was sprawled on the carpet beside me, the blanket tangled in his limbs. He was snoring softly, his lips parted, arm thrown over his eyes. If I’d been a tad more lucid, I probably would have laughed at his sleeping state. However at this particular moment I was consumed by only one desire; to reach the couch.  
I reached up towards the cushions, balling my fingers in the soft white leather, and tugged myself up in one dizzying heave. I let my body slump onto the seat, burying my face in the crease where the cushions met to block out the sun’s rays. “Harreeeeee.” I whined, my voice muffled by the fabric.  
There was a small break in his quiet snoring at the sound of his name, but he didn’t wake. I tried again, this time increasing my volume and annoyance factor. “Harreeeeeee.”  
I heard him let out a soft moan as I finally managed to wake him up. “What do you need?” He slurred in his early morning voice, a rough deep sound that was really too hot to be allowed when I was not in a state to appreciate it.  
“Harry I’m sick.” I groaned back, my head pounding with every syllable. Perhaps sleeping on the floor had not been the best way to keep my cold from getting worse, but if I was honest, falling asleep in Harry’s arms was quite worth the illness.  
I heard the rustle of fabric as he sat up, letting out a yawn and scooting over next to me. “How sick?” He asked, sounding immediately more awake.  
“I don’t know.” I moaned, even his presence failing to making me feel better.  
I felt his hands grasp my shoulder, pulling me so I lay on my back, looking up at his sleepy face. “Let’s find out.”  
I reached up, hiding my eyes. “Too light. Head hurts.”  
“Try complete sentences, Boo. I know you can do it.” He replied, sounding highly amused at my reaction. “Do you know if we have a thermometer?” His fingers brushed through my sweaty bangs, resting on my feverish forehead. I gave a non-committal grunt in response, trying to move as little as possible. “You feel really warm.”  
“No shit.” I murmured, trying to turn back over into my corner. Harry stopped me, his hands wrapping around my biceps and holding me in place.  
“I’m going to take care of you, Tommo, no worries. What do you need?” He sounded almost excited, like he was somehow enjoying the fact that he had me trapped on the couch all day. “Tea? Soup? Advil? Tea, soup and advil?”  
“Advil. Motrin.” I mumbled as another wave of nausea enveloped me.  
“Okay, Baby.” He pushed back my hair, ghosting his lips across my forehead. “I’ll be right back.”  
He rushed off, leaving me feeling crappy and a little bit amused. God, when he wasn’t being sexy as fuck, he was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. And he’d assigned himself to nursing me back to health, something that would at least provide entertainment. 4  
I heard a crash from the bathroom, and the sound of pill containers clattering to the ground. There was a brief silence before Harry’s voice came floating back towards me. “I’m okay!”  
He returned to the living room about a minute later with two bottles and a big glass of water, which he plunked onto the side table, seemingly oblivious to the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the top of the cup. He perched next to me on the couch, nabbing the first pill bottle and unscrewing the lid.  
“Advil.” He pressed the two pills into my hand.  
I meanwhile, was trying to figure out how I could ingest the medicine without having to move.  
He seemed to sense my reluctance. “You’re going to have to sit up, Babe.”  
“Nope.” I smiled up at him. I liked the way he looked in my sleepy fever induced haze, the light catching his curls and creating a soft halo around his face. I reached up to touch him, brushing my fingers across his cheek, nearly dropping the pills I was holding.  
“Careful there, Lou.” He smiled, hooking his arms under mine and lugging me up so I was nearly upright. I squealed in dissent, my head pounding in protest. “There, that wasn’t so hard was it, Drama Queen?”  
“It was an ordeal, but I survived.” I replied as he handed me the water and I swallowed the pills in two quick gulps.  
He stuck his tongue out at me as he opened the second bottle, shaking a pill into my hand. “Motrin.”  
“What happened to the orange stuff?” I asked, staring glumly at the capsule. “I liked the orange stuff.”  
“That stuffs for little kids.” He replied, amusement coloring his face.  
“I’m little.” I persisted, but swallowed the certainly-not-orange-flavored pill without further complaint.  
He smiled, ruffling my hair. “Of course, Little Lou Bear.” I smiled back, reaching for his free hand and taking it in mine. I liked his hands, I realized as I ran my own over his. I liked how his fingers were long and tapering, his fingernails cut short. I liked his veins and his knuckles and how the skin lay, how they bent and curled. They were strong and warm and I wondered vaguely how they’d feel traveling my skin.  
A new thought broke through my consciousness, interrupting my partially lucid perving. “I’m going to get your sick, aren’t I?”  
He shrugged. “I’ll survive. Besides, I couldn’t let you fend for yourself, could I?”  
“I guess not.” I conceded, secretly pleased that he was taking care of me like this. “We should text the boys and warn them that I’m a germ monster.”  
“I’ll do it.” He stood, his fingers still intwined with mine. “Do you need anything? Food? Drink? Strippers?”  
“Strippers are always appreciated.” I replied, sliding so I was laying down once more.  
“I’m sure we can arrange something.” He tapped out a quick beat on the back of my palm. “I’m going to head over to Tesco for a bit, you get some rest.” He let my hand fall with a restrained sort of reluctance that made the butterflies in my stomach do little flips.  
“I don’t think they sell strippers at Tesco, Haz!” I called as he headed for the door.  
“Don’t be so sure!” He yelled back, then closed the door with one last “get some rest!”  
I wrapped the throw blanket more tightly around me, curling up into the side of the couch. I could already feel the medicine begin to take affect, and within minutes I managed to drift into a drug induced sleep.  
I was woken up later by Harry gently shaking my shoulder. “I’m home!”  
“I’m sleeping.” I grumbled, looking up at him through squinty eyes.  
“Not anymore. And you can’t be too upset, I come bearing gifts.” He knelt by the couch with his bags, pulling items out and holding them out to me. “Popsicles, soup, and romantic comedies. I think we should be set for at least a week.”  
I smiled as his haul, feeling significantly better than I had earlier. The uncomfortable sick feeling hadn’t left my bones and my headache had let up significantly, leaving me lethargic but content.  
I reached for the popsicles, pulling the box into my lap and tearing it open. I wasn’t all that hungry, but I knew the ice would be good for my parched throat. Harry waited until I’d fished one out, then took the box to the kitchen, coming back with a cherry pop in his hand. “27 Dresses or No Strings Attached?” He asked, nudging the movies towards me with his foot.  
“Which one is worse?” I asked, unwrapping my lime green popsicle and taking a tentative lick.  
He considered the choices for a moment. “Probably 27 Dresses.”  
“Let’s watch that one.”  
He picked it up, moving to push the disc into the DVD player. “Any room left on that couch?”  
I nodded, pulling my knees up to my chest so he’d have a spot. “Tons.”  
“Good.” He grabbed a pillow from the nearby chair and climbed in beside me, completely ignoring the spot I’d left him in favor of curling up against my back.  
“Well that’s not what I had in mind.” I commented as the previews started up.  
“Are you complaining?” He asked, resting his head on my shoulder and wrapping his arm protectively around my waist.  
I smiled, snuggling back into him and taking his fingers in mine. “Nope.”  
The rest of the day passed as such, with the occasional break as Harry ran to the kitchen for more popsicles. The boys each visited, except for Zayn, who texted a picture of a kitten in lieu of visiting so he wouldn’t ‘catch the plague.’ Liam and Niall brought us soup which Harry half fed to me and half spilled on my shirt, which ended up necessitating a shower but was definitely worth it overall.  
The next day, Harry decided that caring for a sick Louis was not good enough, and fell ill himself, so we made the rest of the boys bring us soup and watched all the bad television we could find between naps. It would have actually been a near perfect week if I hadn’t been plagued by thoughts of Eleanor. I was like an excuse machine, always finding the perfect reason to tell the boys later.  
I knew I’d have to tell them sometime, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I told myself I was just waiting for the perfect moment.  
This whole situation was one big problem, and one I had no clue how to fix.  
xx

It was our first interview since Harry and I had come down with what Liam and Zayn had dubbed the ‘Stylinson Plague.’ It was a fairly generic one, just us sitting around and talking about how lovely it was to be a band and such. I was seated between Harry and Zayn, the latter of which continually gave me gaudy winks whenever I looked his direction, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry and me. Normally it would have made me smile, at the moment it just fed the uncomfortable pit in my stomach.  
I had been zoning out for about a minute when a question pierced through my introspection. “So which of the boys are single?”  
Liam answered as per usual. “Well I’ve got a girlfriend, but the rest of the boys are still available.”  
“I’ve actually started seeing someone, recently.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. After about a week of being tongue tied, there it was, out in the open where I couldn’t snatch it back. At my declaration, about five different things happened almost simultaneously.  
Harry’s head flicked towards me, an awful kind of confusion and despair in his eyes. Zayn shot me an enthusiastic grin, which faltered immediately at the look on Harry’s face. Liam was busy trying to figure out what was going on between us three, and Niall just looked very, very confused. But I couldn’t stop staring at Harry, at the look on his face which was quickly turning from uncertainty to a crushed sort of sadness that pained me in a way I couldn’t quite describe.  
The interviewer seemed oblivious, zeroing in on me. “Really?”  
I nodded, snapping my gaze away from Harry’s. I wished I could take it all back. This had to have been the worst idea I’d ever had. Ever. “Her name’s Eleanor, lovely girl.”  
I tried not to look at Harry, but I could feel his gaze boring into my face. In fact, all the boys were staring at me, each in various states of bafflement.  
“Anything serious?”  
I shook my head fervently, turning to meet Harry’s eyes. “No. It’s not serious.” I wanted to somehow communicate to him the true meaning behind my words, but he didn’t seem to be picking up the signals I was sending him. She’s not real. I’m in love with you, you fucking idiot. “I hadn’t actually got around to telling the boys yet, it’s really recent.”  
The interviewer smiled broadly. “Well you all heard it here first. That’s all the time we have, thankyou so much One Direction for coming into the studio today.”  
I waved goodbye at the camera, panic welling up inside of me. Why had I done that? What one Earth had I been thinking?  
“And cut!” Someone yelled, and Harry sprang from his chair, rushing from the room without so much as a glance back.  
Zayn swore beside me. “Louis, Louis what the fucking fuck.”  
Liam took charge of the quickly unraveling situation, taking Zayn by one hand and me by the other, leaving Niall to run after us as we were dragged into the hallway. Zayn was still cursing under his breath as Liam corralled us into an empty conference room, shutting the door behind us.  
“Louis I have no idea what you’re doing but it is not okay!” Zayn yelled, his anger uncharacteristic and thoroughly alarming. “You better have a fucking excellent explanation for what happened back there because I am so ready to hear it!”  
I backed against the wall, feeling overwhelmed. I couldn’t deal with it, with Harry storming out, with Zayn yelling at me, with the concern in Liam’s eyes and how Niall’s eyes kept flicking between the three of us, like he wasn’t sure who to comfort. I could feel the tears as they welled up behind my eyes, making it hard to breathe.  
“Fucking hell Zayn, don’t yell at him.” Liam approached me slowly, like I was some kind of wild animal, then enfolded me in his arms, sturdy and warm and comforting. “You aren’t really dating her, are you?”  
I shook my head into his shoulder. “No I just, I was going to tell you. And management has been freaking about me not being-” I paused, willing myself not to cry. I was not going to let it happen. Not over this. “Not being, I don’t know, straight enough, and I read this stupid thing and I was going to wait until I’d told you but then the words just came out-”  
“It’s okay.” He soothed, tucking his chin in the dip between my shoulder and my neck. “No one’s mad at you.”  
“Harry’s mad at me.” I mumbled, burying my face in the soft fabric of his hoodie.  
“No he’s not.” He rubbed small circles into my back with his hands, trying to calm me down. “He’s just upset. Once you tell him what’s really going on, he’ll be fine.”  
Niall came up behind me, joining the hug. “He loves you, you know.”  
I wanted to believe his words so badly, to hold them to my chest and never let go, but after this, after all that had happened, did he? Or had I ruined everything for the second time? “I hope so.”  
Zayn’s arms looped around my waist. “I love you to death, but if you pull another stunt like this I am going to physically injure you.”  
I managed a giggle at his words. “I’ll keep that in mind.”  
“Good. Now let’s go home so you can rescue your boyfriend from whatever mope fest he’s gotten himself into.”  
xx  
Harry wasn’t at the apartment when I got there. He wasn’t there at nine when I was a little bit drunk, and he still wasn’t there at three in the morning when I finally managed to fall into an awful, fitful sleep.  
.  
Chapter 11  
I dragged my beleaguered body from bed around eleven, feeling groggy, upset, and a bit hungover. I made my myself a rather shitty cup of coffee and a piece of partially burnt toast, and was eating them on the kitchen floor when Harry came through the door, looking just as bedraggled as I felt.  
My whole body seemed to react to his presence, emotions I couldn’t describe flooding my body with astonishing intensity. “Harry I-”  
He gave me a slow smile, running a hand through his messy curls. “Hey, Lou.”  
My mind reeled, trying to process this new development. How was this even happening, him standing there like yesterday had never happened? I remembered how our eyes had met during the interview. He’d looked so broken then, like something had shattered behind his eyes. I knew I couldn’t have imagined it, but then why was he just acting like this? It had to be an act. There was no other explanation.  
“Did you have a good night?” He asked, pulling open the refrigerator and retrieving the orange juice, pouring himself a tall glass.  
“It was fine.” I replied, still trying to understand the scene unfolding before me. My night had certainly not been fine. It had been awful and painful and soaked in embarrassment and alcohol. A more important though occurred to me; If Harry hadn’t been home, where had he been? “How was yours?”  
“‘It was alright.” He took a long swig of juice, his face a mask of nonchalance. But there was something else hiding beneath his facade, a kind of uneasiness and something that strongly reminded me of guilt.  
“So what did you do?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.  
“Went out drinking.” His tone was formal, our words tip toeing around the questions we really wanted to ask.  
“Oh.” God, the whole conversation just made me want to rip my skin off in frustration. I couldn’t deal with this pretending anymore, acting like nothing was wrong. I took a deep breath, preparing to break the news about Eleanor. Last night I’d hoped that telling him the truth would automatically fix everything, but now I wasn’t sure of much of anything.  
“Listen, about Eleanor...” I began, my voice coming out all wrong, small and timid in the relative quiet.  
He shook his head. “It’s okay. I understand.”  
Well that was not exactly the reaction I’d been expecting. “You do?”  
“Of course. And I’m sorry I ran out of the interview, I just got overwhelmed.” He smiled, though the gesture didn’t quite reach his eyes.  
“No Harry, it’s not like that. She’s not real, I’m not-”  
He nodded quickly, setting down his glass and heading back into the fridge for the egg carton. “I know, I told you. It’s completely okay and I understand.” He popped open the top of the box, reaching for a bowl with the other hand. “You eaten yet?”  
I could only sit and stare at him for a few moments before I was able to form words. “Not yet.” So he knew. He knew she was a beard and he was okay with it and somehow that was just supposed to be the end of it? Where was the part where we kissed? Where he took me in his arms and never let go?  
“I’ll throw some eggs on, you get the toaster out.”  
And that was the end of that.  
xx  
The boys all came over later that day, which Zayn took as an invitation to pull me into a corner and grill me on the events of this morning. Everyone had been expeditiously avoiding the issue of Harry and I since they arrived, neither discussing it nor acknowledging its existence.  
“That’s it?” He hissed as I filled him in. “You made breakfast?”  
I nodded.  
“And this was after you told him the truth about Eleanor?”  
Another nod.  
“Fucking hell, Louis. I’m going to go talk to him, this is fucking ridiculous.”  
I grabbed his arms in a panic, pulling him back down next to me. “Please don’t. Everything’s just fine. Talking to him will just mess everything up.”  
“I won’t mess anything up I promise. I can just-” He stopped, noticing the stricken look on my face. “Oh quit looking at me like that, I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to.” He paused, lowering his voice and making sure he had my full attention, his gaze locked on mine. “I just want you to promise me that you aren’t going to give up on this. What you guys have is special and goddamn it I’m not going to watch it fall apart because you’re too afraid to say how you really feel. You can’t just let this go so easily. You’re going to have to fight for it.”  
I nodded, giving him a hopeful smile. “Okay.” He pulled me in for a hug, his arms strong around my shoulders. I would fight for Harry, I’d never stop fighting for him, because I loved him and I didn’t have a choice. Somehow between the time we’d met and today he’d become a part of me, some piece that I’d never be able to replace. So I wouldn’t give up, because I couldn’t.  
I just hoped it would be enough.  
xx  
The next two weeks went by with stifling normalcy. Everything was fine, I was fine, Harry was fine, and nothing hurt. Except it did, far too much.  
It was an awful kind of masochism being with him, touching him and whispering to him but knowing deep down that he wasn’t mine. We never spoke of Eleanor, in fact, I only talked about her during interviews, usually after pointed looks from Liam. I’d seen her once since the phone call, at some party where the paparazzi took pictures of us dancing and I tried to pretend that I didn’t want to die.  
Harry began coming home late often, creeping in quietly in the hope that I wouldn’t be able to hear him. I could.  
I usually tried to wait for him, giving up around 2 AM and heading off to bed, a heavy pit in my stomach. Tonight I was determined to stay up, if only to get some answers about something that wasn’t entirely my business.  
I sat on the counter, my eyes never leaving the door. I’d tried to pass the time by reading but the words kept swimming in front of my eyes, making concentration impossible. So I just sat there, picking at my cuticles and wallowing in self pity.  
It was three thirty in the morning when Harry snuck in, mussed and tired, but completely sober. He froze when he saw me, looking surprised and terrible guilty.  
“You stayed up.” He observed cautiously, regaining his casual demeanor as he slipped his shoes off.  
“Where have you been?” I countered, tired of pretending that I didn’t care about what he did, that I wasn’t noticing his every movement.  
“Out.” He replied, looking thoroughly miserable despite his best efforts.  
“Out where?” I could see a plea written on his face, wishing for me to stop, begging me not to go there. But I couldn’t, not now.  
“Just out.” He replied, taking a defensive tone.  
I crossed my arms. “You were with someone weren’t you.” I’d definitely crossed some invisible boundary, but I was beyond caring, any pretense of nonchalance lost in the half light of the kitchen.  
He balled his hands into fists. “It’s none of your business.”  
“Who was it?” I pressed, unable to stop myself even I’d wanted to. I needed him to react to me, to make him do something, anything, to end this charade once and for all.  
He exploded. “Her name’s Caroline, okay?!”  
My breath caught in my throat. _Her?_ “Oh.”  
“Don’t fucking look at me like that!” He yelled, looking dangerous and fragile in the shadows. “If you can have Eleanor can’t I have someone? Can’t I?”  
Realization dawned on me, sharp and utterly insane. _Harry didn’t know. He hadn’t known this entire time._ “Oh my god.”  
“What?” He asked, whirling on me. “Oh my god what?”  
“Harry, no.” I began slowly, hope tightening my chest until I could barely breathe. What if the reason he’d acted like everything was fine was because he thought I was actually with her? I never said the words, had I? Oh my god he actually thought I had a girlfriend. I almost laughed at the thought. “She’s a beard.”  
“I’m actually pretty sure she’s a girl, Louis.” He replied bitterly, shoving his thumbs savagely through his belt loops.  
My whole body felt like it was filled with helium, my head spinning, heart pounding in my chest. “Harry I’m not dating her. She’s not a real girlfriend. It’s pretend. I tried to tell you, but you said you knew and...” I trailed off, no longer needing words.  
I stared at him from across the kitchen, the silence hanging between us almost tangibly. His eyes, green and intense, bored into mine and I simply wasn’t capable of looking away. I could see recognition slowly drip into his gaze as he realized what I was saying, the implications of my words.  
He took a tentative step forward, not breaking eye contact. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
“I thought it was obvious.” I replied timidly, realizing that we weren’t just talking about pretend girlfriends, but something much larger and infinitely scarier. I slid off the counter with calculated slowness, my feet hitting the floor with barely more than a whisper. “I thought you didn’t feel the same way.”  
He took another step. “Was I really that good of an actor?”  
I gave a small nod, adrenaline coursing through my veins like fire. “I thought you didn’t want me.”  
He paused, shaking his head ever so slightly and clenching his jaw, sucking in a quick breath. “You have no idea the kinds of things I want to do to you.”  
For a moment, I think I stopped breathing. I opened my mouth, trying to form some kind of reply, but found that I’d forgotten how to think. And so I did the logical thing, closed the space between us, and pressed my lips to his.  
He sighed at the contact, letting our lips linger for a moment before threading his arms around my waist and traveling his hands up my back. He was gentle, achingly so, like he was afraid that if he pressed too hard he’d break me.  
I trailed kisses up towards his ear. “Is that really all you had in mind?”  
There was a brief pause before a tiny, wicked smile formed on his lips, and he moved his hands up towards my shoulders, quirking an eyebrow as if to ask for my permission.  
I nodded. I knew what I wanted.  
And then he’d shoved me against the counter, his mouth warm and hungry on mine, fingers exploring the curve of my lower back underneath the thin cotton of my tee shirt. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him to me so our bodies were pressed together seamlessly. I could feel the desperation in the way he held me, like that night months ago, except at this moment we were perfectly matched. I needed him, I needed him in my bones and on my skin and he needed me just as much.  
He grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head in one swift motion, then returned his mouth to mine with a ferociousness that I returned without a second thought. There was no finesse to our movements, no calculation, just him and I and this indescribable wanting. I shivered into his touch, everything about him achingly familiar but also strange and new and completely unbelievable. It was terrifying kissing him, terrifying and exhilarating and so perfect I couldn’t stand it.  
I felt his hands as they crept up my back, creeping over my shoulder blades and up into my hair. His fingers carded through my hair, curling into the strands and tugging my head back so he could move his lips to my neck.  
I moaned at the touch, the sound escaping me before I could choke it back down. He murmured appreciatively into my collar bone, biting softly on the sensitive skin there, hard enough to leave a mark.  
“Harry-” I began, trying to speak but finding it increasingly difficult as he nipped at my skin. “That’s going to-” He bit down hard, turning my last word into a strangled gasp. “Bruise in the morning.”  
He pulled back, tugging his tee shirt over his head. “Should I stop?”  
I tugged him back towards me, recapturing his lips with mine, murmuring my reply into his mouth. “Of course not.”  
His hands found my hips, sending echoes of my dream through my brain. But this was better, because it was real and solid and he wasn’t going to disappear when I woke up. He was done teasing me and I had the feeling that he couldn’t even if he wanted to. His hands were quick and desperate, as were mine. We couldn’t afford to go slowly, not after all this time.  
His fingers fumbled with my buttons, hands brushing against my skin in a way that was making my pants uncomfortably tight. I gripped the counter tightly as he drew my zipper down, my knuckles white against the granite.  
He trailed his lips back down my bruised neck, pressing kisses down the center of my chest and to my navel, sinking to his knees in front of me. Our eyes met as he slid my pants off, his dark and ardent, filled with a kind of passion that made my pulse race.  
We didn’t speak, our gazes locked together as he wrapped his fingers around the waistband of my boxers and exposed me to the open air. A smirk alit on his features as he pressed his lips to the tip, quickly darting his tongue out in a way that felt far too good to really be allowed.  
I tightened my grip on the counter as he took me in, his lips pink and perfect in the low light. I moaned at the contact, my eyes fluttering shut as he began to work his tongue around my head, licking delicately at the sensitive skin there.  
I could feel myself getting close, dangerously so. I didn’t quite understand what he was capable of doing to me, how me made me feel. It was insane and made my skin tingle where he touched me and ache where he didn’t. I was mad with it, this wanting, this need to feel him all over me, and I knew at that moment that I’d never be able to give him up once he was mine.  
He took me in further, his mouth hot around my achingly hard cock. I could feel the familiar sensation of impending release creep up on me as he swirled his tongue in slow circles, his hands gripping my hips for stability, though whether it was for his or mine I wasn’t sure.  
He closed his mouth completely, sucking hard, his fingernails digging into me in a delicious kind of pain. I rocked my hips forward, hitting the back of his throat as he moaned around me, his eyes shut tight.  
I tipped my head back, letting out a ragged groan as I came into his mouth with a rocking thrust, my whole body sagging against the counter. He released me, wiping his mouth with a dainty hand, coming up off his knees and leaning over me, letting his forehead rest against mine.  
I smiled up at him, my chest heaving as I struggled to get my breath back. “Your turn.”  
He raised his eyebrows, his lips shining and wet as they curled into a lazy grin. I drew my finger down his chest, starting at the hollow of his neck and trailing down to his pants, unbuttoning them with unsteady fingers. We were so close, our noses bumping with proximity, his breath mixing with mine, the smell of him overwhelming my senses.  
I slid his pants down, taking his boxers with, pausing for a moment to assess him. I’d never done this before, I wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. It couldn’t be too much different from jerking myself off, right?  
“Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to touch me?” He asked, his voice low and gravelly and entirely too arousing for his own good.  
I reached out, slowly wrapping my hand around his shaft, marveling at how his skin felt beneath my fingers. He leaned into me at the touch, his hands finding their place on the counter where mine had been only a minute prior.  
I placed a hand behind his neck, holding him steady as I slowly began to work him over, my fingers curling up and down, his eyes screwing shut in a way that was both adorable and incredibly hot.  
I could feel him trembling against me as I sped up my motions, wanting to bring him to climax, wanting to feel him as he shuddered in my hands. He was already so close, I could feel it, and I couldn’t drag this out much longer.  
“Lou, fuck I-” He murmured, his words slurring together. “God, I’m so close.”  
I pulled him closer to me, our slick foreheads pressed skin to skin, lips nearly brushing as I whispered his name. “Harry.”  
He keened softly, leaning into me as he came onto my chest, his cock slipping against the smooth skin there. We stood there for a long moment as he rode out the last of his orgasm, our breathing slowing until I began to feel the floor under my feet again and became aware of the kitchen around us.  
I was sticky, a little cold, and more than a little sweaty, but standing there naked in the near darkness I was perfectly and completely content. I had Harry, I had him undone and in my arms and he had me. It was better than anything I could ever have imagined. He looked down at me, his eyes wide and glowing, filled with an emotion that could only be described as everything I’d ever wanted.  
I let my hands drift around his shoulders, tugging him into a fierce hug. My lips found his ear and I whispered the only words l had left. “I love you.”  
And I did. I always would.  
.  
Chapter 12  
The best part about waking up in his arms was knowing that I’d fallen asleep there. Of course I’d woken up beside him before, on the many nights when I’d gotten homesick, he couldn’t sleep, or the couch had just been too comfortable to abandon, but this time it was different, and in the best way possible.  
Our limbs were tangled in bedsheets and each other, his legs intertwined with mine, hand resting on my waist. It was lovely, waking up with his bare chest pressed so perfectly against my own, his hair messy against the pillowcase and his lips hovering near my collarbone. In the warm shafts of sunlight I could clearly see purpling bruises near his ear and again by his collarbone. They were beautiful against the pale cast of his skin, reminders that he was mine and I was his.  
I imagined I looked about as he did; mussed and kissed and spider webbed in the sleepy fog of morning. I pressed light kisses to his eyelids, murmuring soft nothings to him that didn’t quite make the leap to words.  
He blinked himself awake, his bright green eyes heavy and tired as he gave me a dopey smile, curling his body even closer to mine. “Not a dream?”  
I pressed my lips to the line of his cheekbone. “No.”  
He made a quiet noise in the back of his throat that sounded like contentedness. “I feel like...” He trailed off, letting his eyes drift back closed, unwilling to relinquish the tentative grasp he still had on sleep.  
“Yeah?” I urged him on, tucking my chin into his curls. I decided I liked him like this, muted and buried in my chest. I liked my strong Harry, the one who careened everywhere and slammed me against countertops and let me rest against his shoulder and sang so beautifully I couldn’t stand it, but that was the Harry everyone saw, lovely and silly and wonderful. This Harry, the Harry of sunlit mornings and hazy edges, was mine.  
“Like I have a sun inside my chest.” He finished, his words muffled against my skin.  
I laughed softly into his hair, whispering my reply. “Oh really?”  
“That’s what being with you feels like, like I’m carrying the sun inside me. Like my whole body’s going to burst if I love you any more.” I felt him grin. “Baby, you light up my world like nobody else.”  
I laughed again, squeezing more tightly, as if by some miracle I could fill every gap with the feeling of him. “You’re beautiful.”  
“Those aren’t the words.” He replied, looking up at me with a cheeky grin.  
“Quiet.” I smiled into his hair, perfectly happy to never move again. In that moment I realized something I supposed I had already known. Harry was everything I’d ever wanted. Everything that had happened, all the heartache and pining had been worth it just to hold him. To know for one moment that this was really happening, that he was really and truly mine. Because Harry was special. He was breathtaking and lovely and achingly flawed and he was a part of me.  
I wanted to wake up every morning to him, to his curls and his smile, and wrap my arms around him while he made me breakfast. I wanted to hold his hand during concerts and kiss him when I was drunk and when I was sober. I wanted to be able to tell everyone that he was my boyfriend and run my tongue over the dips and curves of his body. I wanted to smell him on my clothes and in my dreams and in my bed when I woke up.  
I wanted him, entire.  
He shifted beside me, looking up, his eyes warm and sparkling in the morning light. “I love you.”  
I couldn’t help the smile that alit on my face. “I love you too.”

xx

We told the boys that afternoon. We’d invited them all over to our place with the promise of very important news, situating the whole group in the kitchen before we finally told them. Liam had shown up last, just in time too, as I was fairly sure Zayn was going to bounce out of his skin if we made him wait any longer. He kept elbowing Niall and looking over at Harry and I with a grin that walked the line between bursting with excitement and positively filthy.  
Liam came swinging into the apartment around two, toting a small white bag and a question on his lips. “Alright, so which one of you is pregnant?”  
“It’s Louis. He’s three months along. We’re going to name the baby after you, Liam.” Harry supplied, hopping from his place next to me to examine the bag in Liam’s hands.  
The older boy held it out to him. “Pastry. I figured if I was going to be late, I might as well be late with food.”  
Naill practically flung himself at him, diving into the bag and pulling out a frosted donut. “You’re the best, mate.”  
“Guys! We have important news and you’re not paying attention!” I said, only partially annoyed at their antics. If I were being honest, I wasn’t sure if it was possible for me to really be angry at the boys, especially not today.  
Harry pulled a croissant from the bag, returning to his perch next to me on the counter. “Sorry babes. The food called.” He held the warm pastry up to my mouth. “Bite?”  
I smiled over at him, leaning over to rip off a piece with my teeth. “Thankyou.”  
He smirked at me, leaning to whisper into my ear. “I kindof want to put my mouth all over you, so we should probably make this quick.”  
I relished in the way his words made my heart skip a beat. “I like the way you think, Curly.”  
“Are you two just going to flirt all day, or do we get to know the news?” Pestered Niall through a mouthful of donut.  
I looked over at Harry, a nervous smile working its way onto my face. I knew the boys wouldn’t judge us, hell, they’d probably be overjoyed, but I felt something similar to shyness creep over me. “You want to tell them?”  
“You sure?” He asked, threading his fingers through mine.  
“Yep.”  
He gave me one last smile before turning back to the expectant faces of the rest of the boys. “So during X-Factor, I met this great guy. He was exactly the sort of person I’d been looking for, good looking, sweet, funny... with a really excellent ass too.”  
I felt my face flush at his words, looking down at our clasped hands with a irrepressible grin as he continued.  
“I liked him instantly, the way his blue eyes seemed to sparkle when he made a joke, how he smiled and the way his voice sounded. I fell in love with him at the bungalow, when he feel asleep on my chest and I knew that I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted him.”  
I put my hand to my mouth, burying my head in his shoulder. I suddenly understood what Harry had meant by feeling like he had a sun in his chest. I felt like my entire body was bursting, like my lungs were filled with emotion instead of air.  
“I spent a lot of time trying to pretend I could get over him, that maybe I would be content just being his friend, but I don’t think that was ever really an option. I’m in love with him, I’ll always be in love him, and I think he might love me too. So, erm, Louis Tomlinson, everyone. My boyfriend. As of this morning.”  
I grinned into Harry’s neck, pulling him into me to hide the fact that sometime between the beginning of his speech and the end my eyes had seriously started to water. I heard a sound that was halfway between a scream and a cry, and looking up in time to see Zayn tackling Liam nearly to the ground.  
“YOU OWE ME TWENTY! I TOLD YOU OH MY GOD I TOLD YOU!”  
Niall was watching the spectacle in stitches, laughter pouring from his mouth.  
Harry looked over at me, amusement and warmth in his eyes. “That went well.”  
I smiled, pecking him chastely on the lips. “Your speech...” I paused, biting my bottom lip. “You really felt that way? All this time?”  
He nodded, a grin breaking across his face. “Of course.”  
A memory occurred to me, of him staring down at me, lips hovering dangerously close to mine. “You know, that first night I thought you were going to kiss me.”  
He laughed. “I almost did.”  
I took his hands in mine, glancing up at him through my eyelashes. “Well you can kiss me now.”  
He leaned forward, whispering his reply against my lips. “It would be my pleasure.”  
And in that moment, the five of us in the kitchen, Zayn and Liam pulling each other’s hair out on the tile, Niall rolling around in laughter beside them, Harry’s lips on mine, I was the happiest man in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is infinitylourry, so feel free so find me over there. Hope you liked this, it was first 1D fic so it'll always be special to me. (:


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